Domestication
by anon004
Summary: My take on how House and Cuddy would get pregnant, with a new character later and some other stuff.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

"Here's your cup, there's the room," the nurse handed House a specimen cup and pointed to a door at the end of the hall. "Oh, and don't forget to lock the door. Wouldn't want anyone to surprise you at the wrong moment."

House wondered how anyone who did this job day in and day out could possibly be able to snicker at her own comments, most likely the same ones she made to everyone, and yet she had. For a moment, House entertained the idea of saying something sarcastic to her, but he didn't want anything "strange" to show up in his sample later. "Idiot," House muttered under his breath as he turned the door knob and stepped into the room, locking the door behind him.

House had imagined some clinical setting awaited him, so he was surprised to find a dark room with a leather couch. There was a coffee table with some ancient, well-worn "adult" magazines sitting on it. There was a TV with a VCR attached, speaking of ancient. House bet to himself that the tapes sitting on top of the TV were probably so old that at least one of them featured Tracie Lords when she was actually young. House examined the couch more closely. He knew with his leg he would have to sit down to do the deed, but he wasn't exactly sure how sanitary it would be, given the no doubt vast number of sample-producers who had preceded him. A small smile spread to his lips when he thought what Wilson would do if he needed to use this room. He would go through at least a hundred anti-bacterial wipes in an attempt to scrub the place down. _Wait, I'd better not think of Wilson if I plan to get this done._

House decided that none of the so-called aids would be of much use to him. He sat on the couch, set his sample cup on the coffee table, and unzipped his pants. He needed to think of something. Would it be too weird to fantasize about Cuddy? God knows he'd done enough of that before he and Cuddy got together. He'd also done it when Cuddy was away at conferences without him. (It was better when she called at night and they had phone sex, but she couldn't always do that, so he'd still had to use his own imagination on several occasions.)

Thinking of Cuddy being away reminded him of how amazing the sex was when she returned. She'd usually make arrangements with Rachael's babysitter to keep her the night she was due back, "just in case" she was late. She'd then skip the last day of the conference, leave on the earliest flight, and get home by early afternoon. Luckily, most of these times, House didn't have a case to work on, so he'd tell his team he would be working in the clinic. (They never questioned it because they assumed he had blown it off since Cuddy was away and that he had to make up some time.) He'd go to Cuddy's place instead. He especially liked it when Cuddy went shopping during the conference and brought home something new from Victoria's Secret or Fredricks of Hollywood. She'd wear it home under her clothes and as they undressed each other he'd get a nice surprise. Not that she'd be wearing it for very long.

They would spend the afternoon, evening and most of the night going at it like they had been apart for four weeks instead of four days. Cuddy would be almost insatiable, and House was more than willing to attempt to satisfy her. All these memories were more than enough to get House "in the mood" and before he was even consciously aware of it, the cup had his sample in it, and he was sitting back on the couch trying to catch his breath.

House checked his watch and saw it was 11:30. He was still excited enough to briefly entertain the idea of calling Cuddy to see if she was available to run home for a quickie, but he didn't want her to suspect that anything was up, so to speak, so he ruled it out. By the time he got back to the hospital, it would be just about time for lunch, so he'd probably just go see if Wilson was around to join him. The thought of cafeteria food and Wilson had managed to get him out of the mood pretty quickly. He got his clothes put back together (such that his clothes were ever put together), grabbed his cane and hoisted himself off the couch. He picked up the sample cup, unlocked the door and handed it over to the idiot nurse, half expecting another stupid comment from her. Apparently, his scowl was enough to scare her into keeping silent. She handed him the rest of the paperwork he needed to fill out, and he left without further incident.

House giving his sample had been the last of the medical tests he'd had to do, so the paperwork was the only thing he had left to complete. Cuddy's birthday was in two weeks, which would not give him a lot of time to get everything together, but at least he wouldn't have the time to procrastinate. When he'd started this, he was worried about how he would get his family medical history on his biological father's side. He wound up contacting him by e-mail, requesting the information as part of a "study" he was conducting on genetic diseases of members of the military. House wasn't sure if Sean Connery figured out the study was a ruse, but he supplied information going back three generations, and didn't report House to any regulatory agency for fraud or HIPPA violations, so House didn't care. Obviously, he had contacted his mother separately, and he didn't even feel guilty when he shredded all the information about John's family she'd conscientiously provided in addition to her own.

So, all that was left was the personality profile. To some extent, this was a pretty silly exercise, since Cuddy had known him for twenty-five years, and probably knew him better than he knew himself. Still, if he wanted to present her with a complete file, he had to do it. Aside from answering the questions without letting his sarcastic, asshole self take over, the biggest challenge was going to be filling out the forms without anyone questioning what he was doing.

If he did it at home, Cuddy would surely notice. (At times like this, he'd wished he'd kept his apartment. But, if he had started spending a lot of time at his apartment again, Cuddy still would have been suspicious, especially since he couldn't use Wilson for an alibi.)

Since he never did any hospital paperwork, it would be pretty obvious to his team and Wilson that he was up to something if he suddenly started to fill out forms in front of them. Because he'd been away from the hospital for all the medical tests he'd had performed, House figured he must be even more behind than usual in his clinic hours. So, he reasoned that he could go to the clinic, and lock himself in one of the exam rooms for a couple of hours. Everyone would think he was just watching TV, sleeping, or otherwise engaged in his I'm-trapped-in-the-clinic-but-I'm-still-avoiding-doing-any-actual-work-mode that he had perfected over the years. Of course, Cuddy might get a key, come in and catch him, but it was a risk he'd have to take. House figured he would carry the forms in one of those fan magazines he bought in the hospital gift shop, and he could always hide the forms in there and pretend to be reading the magazine if Cuddy burst in on him. The way it worked out, Cuddy was so busy she didn't have time to keep track of him, so he lucked out, for once.

It took more like four hours to finish the forms, because House actually tried to answer them as honestly as he could. He submitted his answers and received the completed report two days before Cuddy's birthday. He put the report together in a file and he even wrapped it in some flowery paper he bought at Walgreens. House thought about using a bow, but he didn't want it to look like he was trying too hard, although he suspected it was already too late for that.

A/N: As always, I'm concerned if the characters are too OOC. Please review. Oh, and more to come soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

On the morning of Cuddy's birthday, Rachael got up early and came rushing into their bedroom. "Happy Birthday, Mommy!" Rachael exclaimed, waking up both House and Cuddy.

"She's so old, I'm not sure it's very happy for her," House snarked.

"Someone's a little cranky this morning," Cuddy commented, "Thank you, sweetie," Cuddy said as she sat up and reached to hug Rachael.

House was cranky. First, he'd been woken up out of a sound sleep by a high-pitched, loud voice, never a good way to start the day. Second, he'd been hoping for a little early morning birthday sex, which was not going to happen now.

"I'm going to take a shower," he barked. He held his leg, sat up and downed a couple of Vicodin from the bottle on the night stand.

"Aren't you going to make Mommy breakfast?" Rachael asked.

"I don't want her to start her birthday with food poisoning," House growled as he limped slowly toward the bathroom.

"He isn't being very nice on your birthday," Rachael commented.

"You know he's just not a morning person," Cuddy reassured Rachael. House wasn't that much more grumpy than usual, Cuddy thought. She also remembered House telling her that birthdays for him growing up weren't very happy occasions, what with him getting no presents and John House seeing the day as an opportunity to tell Greg everything he'd done wrong in the previous year in a so-called attempt to help him improve. Cuddy allowed herself a brief moment of compassion for the child that House was, and hoped his life was at least a little better now. She was pretty sure it was.

"Mommy, are you going to make breakfast?" Rachael asked.

"Why don't we do it together?" Cuddy asked with a smile.

House got into the shower. He was a little over the top with the grouchiness, but he hoped it would put Cuddy off the trail a little bit. If he were at all nice, she might suspect something was up. He didn't want to give her the present until after Rachael was in bed tonight, so he was going to have to keep up the hostility and snarkiness all day. Good thing he was so expert at it.

After House finished his shower, he slipped on his bath robe and went to the kitchen.

"Mommy made a yummy breakfast and you're not getting any!" Rachael proclaimed in her most whiny voice.

"Ra-chael," Cuddy warned, putting emphasis on both syllables of her name.

"Well, you can have some, but you don't deserve it," Rachael conceded. "You aren't being very nice."

"I'm never nice," House responded. "Why should today be any different?

"Because it's Mommy's birthday, and if you loved her, you'd be nice to her!" Rachael insisted.

"If your Mom wanted nice, there is no way she'd be with me," House replied, "I'm The Anti-Nice."

"Okay, that's enough from both of you," Cuddy interjected, "Could we just have a quiet breakfast, please?"

They ate their breakfast in silence, although it wasn't particularly tense. Cuddy put the dishes in the dishwasher, House and Rachael went to get dressed, and Cuddy headed for the shower. Rachael got on the school bus, and House waited for Cuddy to finish her hair and makeup.

"What's taking so long, Cuddy? Do you have a big donor you have to impress with your cleavage today?" House shouted from the living room, "Aren't you ready yet?"

"Does Gregory House actually want to get to his job on time today?" Cuddy asked with a smirk. "Is this my birthday present?"

"I just hate sitting here waiting for The Birthday Queen to get ready," House replied.

"Isn't that what you called Wilson on his last birthday?" Cuddy joked.

"You know," house answered thoughtfully, "it does actually fit him better than you."

They went out the front door and Cuddy locked it.

Cuddy thought House was waiting so they could drive in together. She was confused when House jumped on his motorcycle and took off. Why had he waited for her? _He's just playing with my head. And he hasn't wished me a Happy Birthday, either._ Cuddy wasn't at all surprised, but she was a little disappointed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

**(Oh, and "The Star-Bellied Sneeches" is owned by the estate of Theodor Geisel, I'm pretty sure)**

House's patient had been diagnosed late the day before, and House had to wait around to see if the surgery performed this morning would fix her problem. He knew the patient would be okay by mid-afternoon.

He left the hospital and headed to, of all places, the supermarket. He had a list of ingredients from a recipe on the internet that was rated both easy and five stars. It was a simple (he hoped) pasta dish. He got the ingredients, plus one of those bagged salads, a loaf of Italian bread, and a "Happy 10th Birthday, Olivia" cake. Apparently, Olivia's parents had never picked the cake up because the kid had gotten an intestinal flu before her party. Her loss was House's gain - the cake was on sale.

He got home by 4:00 and got to work. He had completed everything but the pasta by 5:00 and he decided to take a shower. He was finished dressing by 5:30 (he put on the blue shirt that Cuddy said brought out the color of his eyes), and put the pasta water on a low light. Cuddy had picked up Rachael from after school care and they came in the door at 5:45. They smelled the food cooking in the kitchen, and were puzzled.

"Mommy, did you come home earlier and cook something?" Rachael asked.

"No, no, I didn't" Cuddy replied. "I just hope we're in the right house."

They went through the dining room to find the table covered with a table cloth and set for three, including crystal wine glasses for two and Rachael's favorite plastic princess cup with the curly straw.

As they entered the kitchen, House was adding the pasta to the boiling water and he had finished tossing the salad. "Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes," House said without looking up from what he was doing, "unless you want to eat your salad as a first course now."

"Can we help with anything?" Cuddy managed to squeak out when she overcame the shock of seeing House cooking something besides canned soup.

"If you could get the drinks, that would be great." House replied as he stirred the pasta.

Rachael went to the dining room and got her cup and filled it with apple juice from the refrigerator. She went back out to the table to wait for dinner. Cuddy noticed a bottle of Cabernet on the counter. "I assume this is for us?" she asked House.

"Actually, I was hoping to give it to the kid, knock her out, and get her to bed early so I could get you in your Barbarella outfit and take you beyond the galaxy, if you take my meaning," House said as he gave her an exaggerated wink.

Cuddy groaned at the bad joke, reached for the corkscrew and proceeded to open the bottle. She went into the dining room and poured a glass for herself and for House and put the bottle on the table. House brought out the salad and the bread. The next trip was the pasta mixed in with the sauce, and the final trip was the remaining sauce, in case anyone wanted extra.

Cuddy and Rachael were surprised enough, and House was uncomfortable enough that somehow everyone sensed it was better to just serve themselves and eat, as though this were merely another Friday night. The conversation moved from the mundane to the banal and back again.

When everyone was finished, House turned out the lights in the dining room. He went to the kitchen. He lit the single candle on the cake and brought it to the dining room. He began to sing Happy Birthday, and Rachael joined in. Cuddy blew out the candle.

"Happy 10th Birthday Olivia," Cuddy read. "How sweet," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey, anytime I can profit to the tune of 75% off because of a kid's uncontrollable diarrhea, I consider that sweet," House defended.

"Ew, that's just gross, " Rachael said as she twisted her face with a look of disgust.

"What's so gross?" House asked. "It's not even chocolate cake."

"Okay," Cuddy said as she realized some adult supervision was really needed right about now. "Let's just cut the cake and eat it."

After dessert was finished, they put the leftovers away and cleaned up. They went into the living room, and Rachael excitedly gave Cuddy her present. It was a bottle of Cuddy's favorite body wash. "Thank you so much," Cuddy told Rachael as she gave her a kiss.

"Where's your present?" Rachael asked House in a taunting voice.

"Well, it should be hitting the Princeton sewer system in about twenty-four hours, give or take," House replied.

"What?" Rachael asked in confusion.

"I think he means that making dinner for us was his present," Cuddy clarified

"Well, that's pretty lame," Rachael said. "I thought men were supposed to give the women they loved nice stuff like expensive jewelry."

"You better make sure that either you make a killing in the stock market or you marry rich," House responded, "because otherwise your life is going to be very disappointing if you have to spend it in the real world with the rest of us who have to work for a living."

"I think it's time Rachael went to bed," Cuddy jumped in to cut off any further discussion.

Rachael reluctantly agreed (she usually put up less of a fight by the end of the week, when she was more tired). After about fifteen minutes, including Cuddy's very spirited reading of "The Star-Bellied Sneeches," Rachael was in bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

Cuddy found her way out to the family room and snuggled next to House on the couch. It had been a long week for her, too, and she was hoping House wouldn't be having his usual bout of insomnia and that he would accompany her to bed. Not that she thought they would go to sleep right away, but she knew her energy would flag if she waited much longer.

"When I said that the dinner was my present, I wasn't telling you the whole truth," House confessed out of the blue. "I got you something else." He then reached down to the floor at the side of the couch and produced a flat package in floral wrapping paper

"Are these the crown jewels Rachael seems to think I should expect?" Cuddy asked with more than a trace of humor in her voice.

"Dream on," was House's two-word reply.

When Cuddy tore away the paper and saw what looked like a medical file, she was confused, to say the least. "What is this House, a compilation of the toughest cases you've ever solved? Your greatest hits?"

House remained silent as she opened the folder and started reading. It was a report just like the ones she had seen when she was doing fertility treatments and looking for a sperm donor. "What's going on, House?" she asked, completely puzzled.

House cleared his throat and began to explain. "Cuddy, I know we seem to be pretty, um, content the way things are right now, so I don't want to screw anything up. But, your birthday reminded me of your biological clock." _Don't piss her off, House._ "So, I wondered if you still wanted to have a baby or not, and I thought I would show you that I would make an acceptable donor if you did."

House rushed through the last sentence so quickly, Cuddy barely got what he said. As she read the medical information and the profile, it slowly dawned on her what House was offering. She looked up at him with an expression House couldn't quite read.

"You don't need to decide this tonight," House said, trying to keep the gnawing feeling that he had royally screwed things up at bay, "Just read the file carefully, think about it for a while and we'll discuss it some more."

Cuddy had stopped reading the file and was looking away from House, staring at the wall. House could barely quell his rising sense of panic. "Happy Birthday, Cuddy," was all House could think to say. _God, that was lame._

Another minute passed, which seemed like a lifetime to House. He was about to ask her if she was okay when she turned to look at him. Tears were streaming down her face. Oh shit, now I've really done it. House thought.

"Greg," Cuddy began, taking deep breaths to keep herself from sobbing, "this is . . . the best . . . birthday present . . . I've ever . . . re-ceived . . . " Cuddy could no longer hold it in and she began to sob. She got up on her knees on the couch and turned to face House. She took his face in her hands and began to kiss him – his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose, and his chin. She finally made it to his lips and proceeded to give him light, little kisses.

It was deeply loving and tender rather than passionate, and it made House feel a strange sensation in his chest. It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to him that he was in love with her, but this feeling meant it was a certainty. Of course, House had to deal with his feelings in his own way. "Does this mean you want to get started right away?"

Cuddy immediately went from sobbing to laughing. "Well, I have to get off the pill first, but, sure, I would. As you just said, there is that biological clock issue . . . it was just so romantic for you to bring that up, House."

"Well that's me, The Incurable Romantic. Or at least The Incurable," House responded.

"Let's not forget The Incorrigible," Cuddy added. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask anything you want." House responded. "Since it's your birthday, I might even consider answering you."

"House, it must have taken you a lot of time and trouble to put this whole file together. I appreciate it, but why? Why didn't you just tell me that you wanted us to try to have a baby?"

House sighed. She certainly deserved an answer, and he was sure he could come up with one. He just wasn't sure he could admit the real one. "Well, I know what a control freak you are, so I felt the need to demonstrate and document my worthiness. Oh, and I heard the porn in the donation room at the fertility clinic was really good. That rumor turned out to be false, I'm sorry to say."

Cuddy recognized deflection when she heard it. She knew House didn't respond well to being pushed, but this was so important, she thought she'd give it one more try. "House, please tell me the real reason." She hoped that being honest and dropping the game might make him confess something.

House sighed again. "I knew you had been completely tested, and that you were okay. I didn't want us to try and then find out I couldn't do it. I didn't want to fail you, Cuddy. I didn't want to disappoint you again."

Cuddy heard the pain in House's voice and her eyes filled with tears again. "When you were so cranky this morning, I remembered that you told me how your father used your birthdays to point out all your failings from the previous year." Cuddy said with great emotion and sympathy. "No wonder you're so completely screwed up."

House chuckled. "And yet, you choose to be with me and you consider me worthy to be the father of your child. That doesn't exactly make you the poster child for normal yourself."

"Well, one of these days when you've got a few hours, I'll tell you how much fun it was to be my mother's daughter," Cuddy replied.

"Well, that certainly explains a lot about your sister," House said.

"Hey, it's my birthday. Who wants to waste it talking about my sister? Isn't it time for some hot birthday sex?" Cuddy asked with a devilish grin on her face.

"Your wish is my command," House replied with this own huge, evil grin.

They turned out the lights in the family room and walked to the bedroom.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

When they arrived, they each began to get undressed. "House, can we do something different tonight?" Cuddy asked.

"I'm always up for different," House smirked as he pointed to his already growing manhood.

"Don't get too far gone just yet," Cuddy cautioned. "This may take a while."

House was intrigued by whatever would be slow, which would be different than their usual hot-and-bothered style.

"Take off all your clothes," Cuddy commanded.

"It's soo sexy when you go all authoritative administrator on me," House proclaimed with a smile. He assumed since Cuddy asked him to get naked that she was going to use his vulnerability to take some power trip. He was puzzled when she took everything off, too. Then again, seeing Cuddy's zesty bod always made his head a little cloudy with lust.

"Please lay down," she said in a demure voice. House wondered why it wasn't a more of a forceful directive.

"I've fantasized about this for a while," Cuddy confessed. "I just never had the guts to do it until now. There is one rule: you can't touch me."

House anticipated restraints, hot wax, even a paddle or whip. He couldn't have been more surprised when Cuddy began caressing and kissing his face, just like she had been doing earlier, with those same gentle, tender kisses. After she kissed and touched what seemed like every square centimeter of his face, she began to caress his hair. House watched her intently, noticing the combination of tenderness and lust on her face.

She turned him on his side, and her hands and mouth began to travel down the back of his body. Again, she seemed to be making sure that she didn't miss even a tiny area of his skin. Before House knew it, she had traveled down his back, the backs of his arms, his lower cheeks, and the backs of his legs and ankles.

House never liked anyone touching his feet; it made him feel especially vulnerable. He took a deep breath as Cuddy began, trying to allay his anxiousness. It turned out he didn't need to worry. Cuddy's hands and mouth were so gentle and tender that he relaxed completely.

"You have the most gorgeous feet," Cuddy murmured, before licking and nipping the sole of each foot. House was caught completely off guard, and little Greg, who had already begun to be visibly excited, became noticeably more so.

"Oh, just found an erogenous zone," Cuddy cooed as she proceeded up the front of his ankles and legs.

House became anxious again as Cuddy neared his scar. It was so ugly, how could she possibly want to look at it, let alone touch or kiss it? Once again, Cuddy's caresses and kisses conveyed nothing but tenderness.

"Hey, you missed something," House said as she moved from his legs to kissing and caressing his hip bones. Not that it didn't feel incredible.

"Don't worry, I'll be back to that later," Cuddy reassured him as she traveled slowly up his abdomen and chest, flicking her tongue ever-so-lightly against his nipples. She went down the front of his arms, enjoying the muscle definition she found there.

When she got to his hands, she kissed and caressed them. "I adore these hands," Cuddy murmured as she rubbed her cheeks against them. On instinct, House reached to touch her face. "Remember the rule, " she gently reminded him. "You can't touch me."

Then it was on to his collarbone, shoulders, throat and behind his ears. She finally made it back to his mouth and gave him about a dozen of those little kisses. She slid down his stomach and was back between his legs, touching and kissing his scrotum and the underside of his penis. She kissed and caressed the top up from the base, and then pulled back his foreskin and began giving him feathery soft licks on his exposed tip. House hissed and struggled to contain himself. "Can't . . . hold . . . out . . . much . . . longer . . . " House grunted with great difficulty.

Before he knew it, Cuddy was straddling him and guiding him inside her. _My God, she is dripping wet._ Cuddy maneuvered so that House was hitting her g spot with each thrust. With all the buildup, it didn't take long before each of them experienced one of the most intense orgasms they had ever felt. Cuddy collapsed on House's left side and put her arms around his neck and pulled his head on to her chest.

As they both recovered their breath and their senses, House pulled his head back a little to look at Cuddy. "Can I ask you something?"

"Since it's my birthday, I might even answer it," Cuddy teased.

"How is it possible that you were so incredibly wet, and I didn't even touch you?" House puzzled.

Cuddy laughed. "I thought you knew something about the female libido, House. How is it possible for any heterosexual woman to spend an hour touching the sexiest man on the planet and not be totally aroused?"

House couldn't help but smile at being called the sexiest man on the planet. But, Cuddy hadn't really been touching or kissing him in a sexual way. It was more about tenderness and affection. "Even though we ended up boinking each other, this wasn't really about the sex, was it?"

"Now that's the kind of keen observation I've come to expect from Dr. Gregory House," Cuddy replied.

House expected her to elaborate further, but she stopped talking and just looked at him lovingly. So, what had it meant? House wasn't sure, but he knew how it made him feel. Wanted. Desired. Loved. He felt warm, and _complete_. He imagined this was how normal people felt when they were happy. It also dawned on him that Cuddy meant for him to feel this way. Why? It finally occurred to House that Cuddy wanted to show him that she didn't love him because he was a brilliant diagnostician or a good musician, or for his sparkling, snarky wit. She loved _him_. Not for what he did, but for who he was. Just because he existed. Now, House hadn't been loved by many people in his life, and certainly none of them loved him just for living and breathing and being himself. So, there actually was such a thing as unconditional love.

As House wrapped his head around how amazing this was, he felt that feeling in his chest again, stronger than he had ever felt it before. It was achingly intense and incredibly pleasurable. House could stoically withstand almost anything painful (no one really knew how bad his leg got at times and he certainly never let anyone know how excruciatingly lonely he had been after Stacy and Wilson left), but his ability to deal with positive feelings was seriously underdeveloped. So, he was pretty close to being overwhelmed at this point. He could no longer swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat. The tears welled up and began pouring out and sliding down his cheeks.

He didn't want Cuddy to see him cry, so he buried his face back into her chest. He figured out that she knew when he felt her slowly rocking him in her arms. Before now, if she had done this, he would have pulled away and quite possibly made a sarcastic comment. Now, he let himself feel the pleasure of being comforted. He simply allowed himself be loved.

After about fifteen minutes, House was able to stop crying. He had one more question. "It's your birthday, Cuddy. How come I got the present?"

"House, do you really still think of a booty call from me as a present? I'm terribly flattered." Cuddy teased. "Actually, I got a pretty amazing present with that file. Besides, I said it was a fantasy of mine. It's a present when you fulfill a fantasy, isn't it?"

"Your fantasy was to make _me_ happy?" House asked incredulously.

"It was until tonight. I hope it's still not a just fantasy for you, House." Cuddy said.

"Not anymore," House replied.

They drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. If tonight was any indication, this trying to have a baby thing was going to turn out okay.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

The Monday after Cuddy's birthday found her in her OB-GYN's office getting fitted for a diaphragm. She wanted her body to go at least a cycle before they started trying to get pregnant, just so the hormones from the pill would be out of her system. House had offered to wear a condom, but they had both gotten used to the skin-on-skin contact, and decided they didn't want to give it up.

Initially, they found using the diaphragm frustrating. They were accustomed to just doing it whenever they had the chance, and they didn't like having to either plan in advance, or stop to insert the device once things got started. They solved the problem by having House do it, which happened to be a turn-on for both of them. After that, the month went by quickly enough, and Cuddy started testing to see when she would ovulate.

The first time that the ovulation test was positive, they sent Rachael to stay with Cuddy's sister, brother-in-law and their kids for the weekend. They spent most of their time in bed, either doing the deed or talking.

Early in the weekend after one of their encounters, Cuddy was lying down with her butt up on a pillow as House held her in his arms. "I wonder how Rachael is doing. I should call Lena," Cuddy said.

House groaned and rolled his eyes. "Don't call; I'm sure she's fine. How much can your sister screw her up in one weekend?" House changed the subject, hoping to keep Cuddy from indulging in her usual anal-compulsiveness. "I have a question. How come your sister, a nice Jewish girl married to a nice Jewish businessman, has a Mexican name?"

"It's Hispanic, not necessarily Mexican," Cuddy began to explain. "Her actual name is Elena. As you know, my real name is Elizabeth. My mother supposedly named us after two of her ancestors, Elena and Isabella, who came to America. in the 1600s, fleeing Spain and the Inquisition."

"How colorful," House deadpanned. "Can I call you Izzy?" What House referred to as Cuddy's Lorena Bobbitt Glare let him know that wasn't going to happen. "Hey, why did you say 'supposedly'?" House asked, trying to deflect Cuddy's irritation at his use of the offending nickname.

"Well, my mother also used to tell me that my father's ancestors were Lace Curtain Irish, until my father told me they were pure Shanty, coming over as a result of the famine, taking money to fight for the Union in the Civil War in place of the rich Yankees who didn't want to go, and working as laborers on the transcontinental railroad. After that, I suspected my Jewish ancestors were probably more likely some of the great unwashed who came from Eastern European shtetls in the nineteen century with the hordes of other immigrants and worked in the sweatshops." Cuddy explained.

"Why would your mother tell you all that other bullshit, then?" House asked.

"I prefer to think of it as a nice fantasy," Cuddy replied with minor annoyance at House's characterization of her mother's less-than-truthful narrative. "I guess she thinks that having ancestors who were laborers and worked in sweat shops is somehow embarrassing or not important enough."

"And I take it you don't," House commented.

"Hell, no!" Cuddy responded forcefully. "If I thought there was anything wrong with hard work, I would have never been one of the youngest Deans of Medicine in the country."

House loved it when Cuddy got fired up over her accomplishments. It was so powerful and sexy. "Your mom has never been as supportive of your career as she has your sister's pursuit of a rich husband and 2.3 kids," House observed. "She sure as hell doesn't like me."

"My mom has her head up her ass, sometimes," Cuddy continued, still fired up. "David will go after anything in a skirt, so their marriage is hardly idyllic. Lena only stays with him because she's been conditioned by my mother to think that being a housewife is the only thing she can do. As far as you are concerned, my mother just has no appreciation how amazing you are and how good you are to me."

"Wow, I never would have thought any woman I was with would think of me as being good to them," House marveled. "Would that great treatment consist of my snarkiness, misanthropy, drug-addition and overall ass-hol-ish-ness?"

"Well, no one is perfect," Cuddy replied with an ironic smile. "I was thinking of how you seem to enjoy my strength and you don't cheat on me because you actually respect me and don't want to hurt me."

"The lack of cheating also has something to do with the fact that you are more skilled and insatiable than any other woman I've ever been with, and I don't even have to pay," House said in what he believed was a genuine compliment.

"Gee, thanks," Cuddy replied sarcastically. "Once again, I'm overwhelmed with your sense of romance."

"Hey, I'm giving up my whole weekend just to see if I can get you with child," House stated, trying to sound like he was being self-sacrificing.

"You poor thing, what a hardship for you," Cuddy replied, placing the back of her hand on her forehead in a gesture of mock-angst.

"Well, someone's got to do it," House said with his best put-upon sigh.

"Speaking of that, isn't about time we got back to it?" Cuddy asked.

"No argument here," House said as he began kissing Cuddy on her neck, one of her most sensitive spots.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

Cuddy had expected that when she and House were trying to have a baby, the sex would become non-spontaneous and mechanical. The opposite turned out to be true. Even though they had planned to be alone for the weekend, Cuddy had no idea what House would do next. Cuddy was also surprised how good it felt to have sex with no barriers – physical or emotional. She felt connected to House in a way she never imagined. They seemed to be almost pouring into each other every time they had sex. Even though he hadn't said it, House was experiencing the same thing. And, they had become close enough that somehow each knew how the other felt.

Cuddy woke up as the morning light streamed into the bedroom. House was still asleep. Cuddy had remembered discovering the previous month that one of House's erogenous zones was his feet. She hadn't really exploited that knowledge yet. A wicked smile formed on her face as climbed out of bed, knelt at the end, and pulled back the blankets covering his feet, about to do something at least a little naughty.

She remembered how she had told House his feet were gorgeous. She paused to get a good look at them in the light. They were big, a size twelve or thirteen, she guessed. (And, in House's case, the so-called myth about big feet and other parts of a man's body also being large turned out to be true.) His feet had graceful, curving, high arches, and long, elegant toes.

As Cuddy examined the bottoms of his feet, she noticed something odd. There were a series of small, translucent, round spots. What were they? Then Cuddy remembered something from way back when she was an intern doing her rotation in the ER. A child was brought in with similar marks on his arms. The Attending had told Cuddy they were scars from cigarette burns and reported the boy's parents to social services. These marks were eerily similar.

Cuddy didn't want to believe what she was seeing. She remembered that Stacey was a smoker. Maybe she and House had been into something a little kinky back when they were together. That didn't seem right. Even before the infarction, House never enjoyed pain. He certainly did everything he could to avoid it afterward. Cuddy could no longer come to any conclusion but that this was abuse House had suffered as a child.

"Oh, House," Cuddy sighed, her eyes filling with tears.

House woke up to find Cuddy kneeling at the foot of the bed, staring at his feet, of all things, and crying. "What's the matter?"

Cuddy gently began touching the scars on the soles of House's feet. "Did that abusive bastard of a father do this to you?" she asked with barely controlled anger.

If House hadn't been both so sleepy and so surprised he probably would have been able to come up with some convincing lie to deflect her. But he couldn't think of anything in his mentally hazy state, so he simply answered her truthfully, "Yes." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Why?" Cuddy asked with fury. "What could you have possibly done to deserve anything close to this?"

"I don't remember," House answered honestly. "I'm sure I screwed up somehow, since I was always screwing up, at least according to him. When he was doing it, it hurt, a lot. Funny, I also remember the smell. It was like burning meat."

Cuddy's face blanched as she heard that, but House didn't seem to notice. "The burns blistered in a couple of days, and I had to run in a race," he continued, lost in the memory. "When I ran, my feet hurt so much. It was almost as bad as my leg felt after the infarction. And can you it believe it? The SOB had the balls to berate me for not winning," House's eyes looked like they were focusing on something in the distance. His voice was low and detached, as though he were talking about someone else.

"One of the burns on my right foot got infected," he went on. "I went to the hospital, and the doctors were actually considering amputating my foot for a while, before it started healing."

"Dear God," Cuddy exclaimed. Not only was she appalled by what happened, but it gave her some insight into why House was so adamant not to have his leg amputated after the infarction.

"When we told you that we might have to amputate your leg, all this must have come back to you," Cuddy said. "No wonder you were so damn stubborn about not doing it."

Cuddy slid her arms around House's feet and hugged them to her chest. House felt his toes getting wet. It took him a second to realize that Cuddy's tears were falling down her cheeks and on to his feet. "Hey, my feet are pretty happy right now," he said, rubbing them against her breasts.

Cuddy laughed, wiped her eyes, covered up his feet and climbed back in bed with him. "So much for my erotic plans."

"You're an intelligent and resourceful woman, Cuddy. I'm sure you can come up with something else," House said, trying to be encouraging.

"Can I ask you something?" Cuddy said as she searched House's face. "Did your mother know what your father was doing?"

"Until I was in my twenties, I was convinced she didn't. How much of that was my own wishful thinking, I don't know," House replied. "I don't think she ever was consciously aware of it. Denial can be a powerful thing . . . "

"I'm trying not to hate her right now for letting this happen to you," Cuddy stated indignantly.

"Hey, that's not fair," House responded. "All this happened in the days before battered women's shelters, and she was never near any family who could take her in. And she didn't have your education or position. I'm sure it would have been almost impossible for her to leave."

"Is that why you like my being strong and successful?" Cuddy asked.

"I guess it is," House admitted. "I know you would have the resources and the strength to protect my children."

"From whom?" Cuddy asked, knowing that House would never hurt anyone.

"If I died and you hooked up with some creepy loser who couldn't love or appreciate Rachael and our future kid," House clarified.

Cuddy smiled, recognizing that House considered Rachael his child, and therefore worthy of Cuddy's protection. She also liked contemplating their future child. "Hey, do you want to get back to work on creating that child?"

"Yes, ma'am!" House enthusiastically replied.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: I hope the abuse story in this chapter wasn't either too strange or to OOC. Please review and let me know.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

Cuddy still couldn't get the thought of House being hurt out of her mind. She began kissing him all over, the way she had the night of her birthday. She wasn't sure how much remembering that horrible incident had hurt him, but she wanted to make sure he felt that now he was safe and deeply loved.

Again, she started with his face, covering every inch of his skin with her kisses and caresses. House never thought of his face as an erogenous zone, but he was definitely responding to her. She went slowly down his back, the backs of his arms, and his butt. Since House knew what she was doing this time, he let himself relax and enjoy every sensation. She traveled slowly down the backs of his legs.

Cuddy wondered how House would react to having his feet touched now that he knew she was aware of what happened. He didn't seem to tense up this time. Cuddy smiled as she smothered his feet with kisses, including between his toes. The look of utter contentment Cuddy saw when she looked up at him let her know he was in the moment and not reliving anything unpleasant from his past.

Again she went up the front of his legs and reached his scar. This time, instead of moving quickly, she lingered over the area, kissing and caressing it and brushing her face against it. House reached down and Cuddy thought he might try to stop her. Instead, he ran his fingers through her hair, letting her know it was pleasing him.

Cuddy moved on to House's hip bones, causing him to buck at the sensation. She caressed the hair on his abdomen. He was slightly soft around his middle, but for a man past fifty, he was in remarkably good shape. She traveled up his chest and drew circles around his nipples with her tongue, and House shuddered in response.

She moved down the front of his arms, thinking of all the times she had been completely turned on just by peeking at his biceps when he was wearing a t-shirt.

Again, those amazing hands. She nipped at the calluses he had on the tips of his long, elegant fingers from playing his guitar. This time she didn't stop him when he reached to caress her face.

She went down between his legs. She took all of him into her mouth, and licked with a circular motion as she moved from the base to the tip. House's hips bucked again as she gently slid his foreskin back and forth across his tip. He was fully erect now. As Cuddy began to climb on top of him, he surprised her by flipping her on her back.

"Getting-you-knocked-up-sex, remember?" House grunted as loomed over her.

Cuddy pulled her knees up until they were practically around her head, with her legs spread as wide as possible for maximum penetration. She was thankful for the flexibility she had from doing yoga on a regular basis.

House paused and looked at her. She was wide open and dripping wet. His desire overwhelmed him and he bent down to taste her. His tongue found its way into every nook and cranny. He sucked on her lips and flicked his tongue inside her. He moved up to her clit and skillfully licked around it, avoiding the tip.

"Please," Cuddy begged, aching for him to take her over the edge. He pulled back and thrust deep inside her. Cuddy was so far gone that it only took a few more thrusts and she came. Her orgasm started somewhere around her toes and continued all the way up her body until it exploded out of the top of her head.

House felt her muscles closing all around him and he lost control. He exploded deep inside her, as his entire body shook with the most intense pleasure he had ever felt. He withdrew and lay next to her. They were both panting.

House pulled one of the pillows out from under his head and pushed it up under Cuddy's behind. Her eyes were closed as she tried to catch her breath and her legs were still wide open. House moved his hand down and began to rub her clit with his finger.

"What . . ?" was all Cuddy was able to gasp as her eyes popped open trying to understand what was happening.

"Orgasms increase your odds of getting pregnant," House informed her with an evil grin as his finger continued with its feather-light strokes across her already swollen clit.

Cuddy uttered a series of unintelligible syllables as her next orgasm overtook her. Her entire body convulsed with pleasure.

House gave her three more orgasms in the next fifteen minutes, "just to be sure" he told her.

Cuddy's legs ached and she was exhausted. House was pretty tired, too. The missionary position took a lot more out of him because he had to compensate for his leg. All the discussion about his father hadn't helped. But Cuddy's reaction and the way she touched him had made him feel better. For some unknown reason, she really did love him. They drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

"


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

When House woke up next, it was some time in the afternoon. His stomach reminded him that they hadn't eaten since dinner last night. He had really enjoyed that meal, especially dessert. He and Cuddy had done some, er, interesting things with the hot fudge sauce. God, she was up for anything, this woman. House smiled and his stomach rumbled again, and this time, it was loud enough to wake up Cuddy.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

House looked at the clock, "About one. Hey, do you have any food in this place?"

"I think I can scrounge something up." Cuddy got out of bed and reached for her robe.

House pulled it away from her. "Totally unnecessary," he offered by way of explanation.

"Okay," she smiled as she made her way across the bedroom, adding a little extra sway to her hips as she did so.

House almost wolf-whistled, but his mouth was dry and he decided to get up and get something to drink instead. He grabbed his cane and two Vicodin and carried them in his hand towards the bathroom. After he took the pills with a glass of water, he headed toward the kitchen. As he entered the room, Cuddy was leaning into the refrigerator, her nipples becoming erect from the cold.

"Damn, I never thought I could fall in love with a kitchen appliance, but that refrigerator really does something for me, or for you, at least," he grinned.

"There is something about a man wearing just a cane that does it for _me_," Cuddy said as she ogled House in all his glory.

House hadn't thought to pull on a pair of boxers when he left the bedroom. He was usually pretty self-conscious about his scar, but he didn't feel uncomfortable at all at the moment. Maybe it was the incredibly beautiful, sexy, naked woman standing in front of him, looking like she was ready to jump his bones at any minute.

His stomach growled again. "I hate to break up the lust-fest, but I'd better eat something or I won't be able to keep up my strength."

Cuddy pulled some things out of the refrigerator and the cupboard to make sandwiches.

"Sorry, no chips or fries," Cuddy said as she put the sandwiches on the small table in her kitchen. She had made herself a salad.

"You know that when you are pregnant with my spawn, you will have to eat some meat," House commented with a mouthful of turkey on whole wheat.

"Not necessarily," Cuddy replied. "There are lots of non-animal sources of protein."

"Not many that contain sufficient iron, unless you intend to do IV spinach," House noted.

"We'll see," Cuddy said in a non-committal voice.

"You are not sacrificing the health of our kid for some crazy theories on nutrition," House stated, a bit more forcefully than he intended. He really didn't want Cuddy to know how much this mattered to him.

Cuddy figured it out pretty easily. She smiled. "I do believe Dr. Gregory House may be going a little soft with the idea of having a child," she teased.

"Hey, you better hope I'm not soft, or the kid will never happen," he responded, pointing down to his manhood.

"I'm sure I can help you with that," Cuddy asserted.

"You're insatiable, woman," House said with mock indignation. "At least let me finish my sandwich!"

Cuddy smiled and they finished their lunch. House enjoyed the view as Cuddy bent down to put the dishes in the dishwasher.

Cuddy finished cleaning and looked up. House had left the room. She heard music coming from the living room. She padded through the hall. House had put some jazz on the CD player. He turned to her and held out his arms.

She knew House couldn't dance anymore, not really. She walked over to him, slid her arms around his waist, and rested her head against his chest. He put his arms around her and they moved almost imperceptibly with the music.

This was her idea of what heaven would be like – head-to-toe contact with the man she loved, with movement and music. She was intoxicated with him, and let her emotions take her away. "God, I love you so much."

With hearing her say that, House felt every wall he had ever put up to protect himself crumble away. He squeezed her to his body as tightly as he could. He wanted to tell her he loved her, too, but he wasn't sure he could get the words out of his mouth without losing it.

Finally, after several deep breaths, he managed to croak out, "I love you, too," in the softest whisper imaginable. He wasn't sure Cuddy had heard him, until he felt her arms move from his waist to around his neck and he felt her press her lips to his. His leg was beginning to ache and he knew he would have to stop soon, but, oh, it was so amazing he didn't want it to end, not just yet. Cuddy must have sensed something because she murmured, "I know we can't bring this music into the bedroom. But we can still dance in the sheets."

House smiled at the cliché. He reached to turn off the music and he leaned on her as they moved from the living room through the hall into the bedroom. What would have seemed humiliating to him even a short while ago now felt like an act of love. This woman wanted him so much that she didn't care that he needed help walking. And it wasn't just that she wanted to have sex with him – she wanted to have a child with him.

They entered the bedroom. As they lay down on the bed House turned away from her because the emotions he was feeling were so intense. He was almost drowning.

"I know all this emotional stuff isn't easy for you," Cuddy said as she lightly stroked his arm. "Most people think it's because you don't feel things. I know it's because you feel things more deeply than everyone else."

Okay, now House was really worried. She had him pretty much figured out. What would she do with this knowledge? Then he remembered it was Cuddy. Cuddy, who had stuck with him through all his idiotic behavior. Cuddy, who had not left him even when he lashed out blindly in pain and loneliness, like a wounded animal. Cuddy, who was there beside him holding his hand, when even Wilson couldn't take it – him -- anymore.

As he turned to face her, he was completely overwhelmed. It started with a few tears, and then great, wracking sobs came out of him. All the pain he'd stuffed down for all those years just wouldn't stay down any more. And House made no effort to hide it. He just lay there facing Cuddy and sobbing.

After a while, Cuddy put her arms around House and pulled him into her chest. She rocked him gently until the storm subsided. After his breathing returned to normal, she got up. He heard water running in the bathroom. She came back and began washing his face with a warm washcloth. "This should keep your face from looking too bad," she said.

"It feels really good," House murmured gratefully.

After she finished, she got up, put the washcloth in the bathroom and returned to bed.

"Can I ask you something?" House looked into Cuddy's eyes. "When I started to cry, you didn't hold me right away; you waited. Was it really that awful?"

"The opposite," Cuddy replied with a small smile.

"What?" House asked, completely puzzled.

"When I saw you cry, it was just . . . " Cuddy fumbled for words. "Your face had at least a dozen expressions on it at once, and they changed constantly. It was amazing. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen." Cuddy's voice had changed to a whisper, like she was sharing a powerful secret. "I just couldn't look away. I'm sorry if it hurt you that I wasn't holding you . . . " her voice trailed off.

House was amazed that Cuddy found his weather-beaten, scruffy face attractive even in normal times (not that most of his times were normal, in any case). To think that she found his massively contorted, tear-stained face beautiful was almost too much for him to believe. But she sounded sincere, and what reason would she have to lie? House felt himself being overwhelmed again.

He was so drained, he thought he would have to deflect. So, he surprised even himself when he said, "I know I can hurt you, but are you even capable of hurting me?" His voice was cracking. "I don't deserve you, Cuddy."

"Oh, House," Cuddy sighed. How many ways could she tell him and show him he was worthy of being loved before he believed it? It dawned on Cuddy that she would have to just keep doing that, probably for the rest of the time they were together. It was a life sentence she could happily accept.

"Stop being an idiot and get over here and kiss me," she demanded.

"We do need to get back to work getting you knocked up, don't we?" he said as his lips pressed against hers.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

They had been through such an intensely emotional period for most of the day that they both seem to decide, without discussing it, that the rest of the day would be about playfulness and their usual back and forth.

After having sex again and House making sure Cuddy had multiples afterward, they decided it was time for dinner. House wanted delivery, but Cuddy had stocked the refrigerator and didn't want the food to go to waste. "Nude cooking can be very erotic."

"Not to mention dangerous," House responded. Thinking again of Cuddy's Lorena Bobbitt Glare, he added, "I'll be the one using the knife, if you don't mind."

House chopped the vegetables while Cuddy cooked the meat, the pasta and the sauce.

When House was finished, he limped over to the stove and dipped some bread in the sauce to taste it. It ran down his chin. "You're such a slob when you eat," Cuddy teased as she licked the excess sauce off his chin and sucked it off his lips. "Hmm, needs a little salt," she commented.

"I was thinking the same thing," House said as his senses returned after the lip play.

They finished cooking and sat down to eat. Nude eating was at least as much fun as nude cooking. "I keep hoping you'll spill something on you that you need me to help you clean up . . . with my tongue," House said as he gave Cuddy the once-over.

"You are such a pervert," Cuddy replied, dipping her nipple into the sauce they had worked on to get just right.

House's mouth was on the job in a flash. He made sure to lick every molecule of sauce off of her.

"While you were taking care of this," Cuddy said, pointing to her nipple, "the other one just fell in . . . "

House felt it was his duty to partake of the wonderful sauce yet again.

"Have you ever had sex in this kitchen?" House asked.

"Not with you," Cuddy answered, causing a twinge of jealousy to pass through House. "Of course, since it wasn't with you, it was empty and meaningless. Oh, and I was alone, as I recall."

"Were you at least thinking of me?" House asked, trying not to sound too pathetic.

"Of course," Cuddy replied. "You were with Stacey then," she answered honestly, feeling embarrassed at her own jealousy.

"We've wasted a lot of time, haven't we?" Cuddy asked rhetorically. "Why did we spend so much time and energy denying what we really felt?"

"Because we, like every other human being on the planet, are idiots," House replied with a characteristic sneer. "I just know what I want now," House said in a low, seductive tone.

God, he could reduce her to a puddle of desire with just his voice. She pulled him up from his chair. "Take me here, now," she demanded.

House really didn't want to lie on the floor; the tile was cold and hard. A smile passed his lips as he realized that Cuddy had just spent an inordinate amount of time cleaning the countertops.

He began kissing her and pushing her toward the very same sparkling clean countertop. When he reached his destination, he hoisted her up. He spread her legs to the widest possible angle and began using his fingers to please her. Her head fell back as she groaned in delight.

"Watch your head with the cabinets," House cautioned as he tried to avoid their passion culminating in a trip to the ER. Cuddy's head fell against his chest as he began thrusting into her. It must have been at least the fifth time they had done it today. House's leg was beginning to protest, but he kept going, until they both climaxed yet again.

Cuddy didn't want to keep sitting on the countertop while she waited for House's swimmers to do their business, so she slid down, took a seat on one of the chairs, and put her legs over the arm to keep her lower half tipped up in the correct position. House put the leftover food in the refrigerator, and the plates, cups, and flatware in the dishwasher. Now his leg was really starting to protest.

"I have to go take something and lie down," House informed her. "You can join me in ten minutes," House said, pointing to the clock on the microwave.

Cuddy wasn't thrilled with the idea of being left there by herself, but she hoped House would use the time to settle in and get comfortable (or, as comfortable as he could). After some time passed, House shouted from the bedroom, "Time's up!"

Cuddy smiled, got up from the chair, and went through the bedroom into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, used the toilet and headed to bed.

House was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

"How's your leg?" Cuddy asked as she settled in beside him.

"Considering everything I did to it today, it isn't too bad," House replied, massaging it with some vigor. "I think we're going to have to take it a little easier tomorrow."

"Maybe we could try some less taxing positions," Cuddy suggested.

"This is just a ploy for you to be on top, isn't it, you wanton woman?" House responded. "We don't want to diminish our chances."

"Wow, and I thought I was the obsessive one," Cuddy said with a smile. "I have faith in your swimmers."

"Considering all the crap I've put in my body, not to mention my advanced age, I think we need to do everything we can to help them along," House said.

Cuddy was lying next to House. His body was warm and she found the vibrations of his voice traveling through her body to be very soothing. "Okay. Can we go to sleep now?"

"Sure," House agreed, feeling his own fatigue catching up to him.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer, Don't Own, etc.

House woke up and saw Cuddy sleeping beside him. She was drooling slightly on the pillow. House knew that some men would find that a turn off. For him, pretty much everything involving Cuddy's bodily fluids had the opposite effect. He wiped the drool off her face with his thumb and watched her as she woke up. God, those sleepy eyes were so beautiful.

"Morning," Cuddy mumbled as she stretched. House also enjoyed watching that.

"Morning," House replied. "When does your sister drop off the kid today?"

"Dinnertime," Cuddy answered. "Five or six, I guess,"

"Well, that only gives us a few more hours of sex time by ourselves," House said, with a tinge of regret in his voice.

"I'm sure we'll put it to good use," Cuddy smiled. "I could use a shower, how about you?"

House's face displayed a wicked grin. "You're always complaining that you spent all that money on getting your bathroom re-done and you never have the time to use the bubble tub. How about a bath?"

"Oh, that sounds like fun," Cuddy exclaimed.

They headed into the bathroom. Cuddy turned on the water in the tub and kept checking to see when it got warm. House occupied himself with picking the body wash to pour into the water. "Why is everything so girly?" House asked in disgust.

"In case you hadn't noticed, up until recently, this bathroom was used almost exclusively by a woman." Cuddy explained. "Hey, instead of something flowery, how about something with fruits or vegetables?"

"Uh, no fruits, thank you," House replied. He took a sniff of one bottle and said, "I'm okay with this stuff."

"Really?" Cuddy replied. "How do you think Wilson will react if I tell him you like cucumbers?"

"Given your selection, it's this or nothing," House noted, ignoring the implications of Cuddy's joke.

"Cucumbers, it is," Cuddy decided.

After the tub started to fill, they put the cucumber body wash in. They climbed into the tub and started the bubble mechanism.

Unlike a whirlpool tub, which had areas where there were jets and areas where there weren't, the bubble tub created turbulence all over. It was kind of like sitting in a giant glass of champagne with very large bubbles. (Of course, the ever-practical Cuddy had bought it because it didn't have water sitting in it the way the pipes in a whirlpool tub did, so there was no possibility of anything nasty growing in it.) In any case, it was good for House's leg (and made other parts of him happy, as well).

When Cuddy climbed in, she closed her eyes, letting herself get used to the water's temperature. She opened her eyes quickly as she felt something. House had grabbed one of her bath sponges and put some cucumber body wash on it. He was rubbing it gently across her back. "Oh," Cuddy sighed.

"Do you like this, Lisa?" House asked, using her first name, which was rare.

"Yes," Cuddy whispered.

House made sure he covered every inch of her back, the way Cuddy had done with him with her kisses. After he finished, he pulled her back against him and moved on to her front. He decided the sponge was a little too harsh, so he put the body wash on his hands and began to clean (that is, caress) her breasts. Cuddy tossed her head back to rest on his shoulder and sighed with pleasure.

Adding the body wash as needed, her worked his hands over her arms and hands, and traveled back over her abdomen. His hands skipped past her most delicious parts (with minimal protest from Cuddy after she remembered she had done the same with him), and began soaping up and caressing her thighs and lower legs.

House put more body wash on his hands and pulled her foot out of the water. She barely had the chance to protest the cold before his hands began to warm her foot with an amazing massage. After he finished with her left foot and began to do the same with her right foot, she said, "You know that you are going to have to do this often when I'm pregnant?"

"How often?" House asked, still focused on the task at hand.

"Um, twice a day," Cuddy answered, hoping that he wouldn't protest too much.

"With those killer heels, are you sure twice a day is enough?" House asked as he nuzzled the spot where her neck and shoulder met.

"I'll make do," Cuddy replied, amazed that House had agreed.

Cuddy could, at any point, have taken more control of the situation. But she knew that House had more mobility in the water because it offered more support for his leg. She knew he wanted to be in a situation where he could take command. And, quite frankly, she had longed for a situation where he could take control. It made her feel feminine and cared for in ways that most of the rest of her life could not.

House brought her back from her thoughts when his hands found their way to the one part of her body he hadn't touched yet. He started by running his soapy fingers gently through her pubic hair. "Umm," Cuddy sighed at the sensation.

"You're so soft," House remarked, losing himself in what he was doing. "How does this feel?" House asked as his fingers began to caress her lips.

Oohh," Cuddy murmured. She turned her head to bury her face into the side of House's neck and began kissing him there.

House parted her lips and inserted one of his long fingers inside her. He rotated his finger slowly. Cuddy pushed herself against his hand, taking his finger in as far as it would go. House inserted a second finger and began rotating them both. With his other hand, he began to stroke her clit.

"House," Cuddy said, her voice raw. Her back was arching, pushing the lower half of her body against his hands, letting House know how much she wanted him to continue.

He pulled his hands away and slid her off of him, so that her back was against the tub. He moved in front of her. Even though she hadn't touched him other than the kisses on his neck, he was fully erect from just touching her. (The bubbles bouncing against his balls had helped things along, too.) He guided himself into her slowly until she completely surrounded him.

"Oh, God, it feels so good to have you inside me," Cuddy moaned. She pulled him down to her for a passionate kiss. House began moving in and out of her, as usual, unerring in his ability to find just the right spot to hit with his thrusts. Cuddy tried to hold on, but between the sensuality of the bubbling water and all the amazing ways House had touched her, she couldn't make it for long. Her body began to shudder with pleasure. She felt House make one more thrust and then she felt his hot sperm shoot deep inside her.

He collapsed on top of her. It didn't feel too heavy because he was buoyant from the water.

After they had recovered a bit, she began to kiss his head. "You know, we haven't washed our hair yet," she reminded him.

"The water's getting cold," House observed. "Are we going to drain it and start again?"

"Why don't we just take a shower?" Cuddy suggested.

They climbed out of the tub and let it drain while they took a shower and washed each other's hair. Although it wasn't exactly a conception-friendly position, they had sex again in the shower.

When they got out to dry themselves off, Cuddy remembered she had put most of the towels in the wash and hadn't had the time to put them back in the bathroom. House put on his bathrobe and motioned for Cuddy to join him. She put her arms around him and he folded her into the robe. This led to another round of what House described as hiding the sausage.

They finished drying off and walked on wobbly legs into the kitchen. They were both starving. They decided to make a brunch with eggs, bacon (for House), toast, fruit, juice and coffee.

As they sat down to eat, Cuddy was thinking. "You don't think we're doing it too much, do you?" she asked.

"Don't think that's possible," House mumbled with a mouthful of eggs.

"I mean, as far as trying to conceive is concerned," Cuddy said as she playfully swatted him on the arm.

"Didn't that quack OB/GYN of yours tell you that the more sperm you have swimming around that egg, the higher the odds that one of them will make me proud?" House asked.

"I don't think my doctor thought that validating your manhood was the primary purpose of the exercise," Cuddy retorted.

"My comment had strictly to do with biology, not ego," House asserted. Although Cuddy noticed he was sitting a little taller in his chair.

Cuddy gave up trying to get an answer. "Whatever you say, stud."

"That's more like it," House exclaimed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

They finished their breakfast and cleaned up. House was sitting at the kitchen table looking out into the back yard. "Have we ever done it on the deck?" he asked.

"Don't you remember that night last summer when the air-conditioning wasn't working?" Cuddy reminded him. "We were sleeping on the deck trying to keep cool when things got very hot."

"I never did it outside during a thunderstorm before," House smiled at the resurrected memory.

"Not even with Stacey?" Cuddy asked with genuine curiosity.

"My apartment didn't have a back yard," House reminded her.

"You were together five years, didn't you ever go camping?" Cuddy inquired.

"Stacey always said that people had bled and died for five thousand years so that she could have the privilege of indoor plumbing, and she wasn't about to spit on their memory by going camping," House responded. "I'm sure she was afraid she'd break a nail or smear her make-up. Anyway, enough about The Princess, are we going to go out there and do it?"

"First, it's broad daylight, and I'm not so close to any of my neighbors that I want to give them that sort of free show," Cuddy replied. "Second, it's what, forty degrees out today?"

"Hey, we'll be keeping the important parts warm," House said, still trying to convince her. "I was just trying to keep things interesting."

"I do appreciate that House," Cuddy responded. "I'm open to other ideas."

"Well, we haven't done it in the living room for a while," House ventured.

With Rachael around, they had been pretty much confined to the bedroom other than House surreptitiously coping a feel now and then in the kitchen. "Sure," Cuddy agreed.

They went into the living room, and Cuddy was just about to ask House if he wanted to try the couch when he slammed into her with a passionate kiss. The stood there devouring each others faces for a couple of minutes. Their lips parted and House carefully got down on the carpet, pulling Cuddy down with him. They lay side by side kissing once more.

House eased Cuddy on to her back. Cuddy had had just about enough of the missionary position at this point and pushed House on to his back.

"I'm taking what I want," she demanded, and top of House. He was torn between wanting to maximize the chances of Cuddy getting pregnant, and finding her aggressiveness incredibly hot.

His libido won out over everything else. He stopped struggling and allowed himself to be taken by her. Hell, he was already pretty far gone before they had started. He had never imagined he could give up this much control and still feel okay, let alone enjoy himself as much as he was.

He recognized that so much of his life had been spent trying to regain control after having suffered abuse. The physical pain of the abuse was bad enough, but that healed, even with the scars as reminders. But the emotional insecurity it had created was something he continued to struggle with. Some nights he still had nightmares if he had encountered something triggering in the clinic during working hours.

Cuddy always thought his desire to avoid clinic duty was because he was lazy, and, for the sake of his own dignity, he let her continue to think that. He just couldn't admit that some days the combination of the pain in his leg and the memories evoked by seeing abused kids were almost enough to push him over the edge.

"House, are you still here?" Cuddy asked, noticing he was adrift in his own thoughts.

"Um, yeah," House responded as he was pulled from his pain by the incredibly beautiful woman who was on top of him, seeming to totally enjoy his body.

"Lisa," he whispered, trying (and, he was sure, failing) to mask the pleading in his voice, and hoping that she wouldn't laugh at him.

It had the opposite effect. She was taking him into her and loving every bit of him. "Oh, Greg," she moaned, trying to mask her own need for him, and also convinced she was failing.

At this point, it wasn't just their bodies that were naked. Their emotions were completely exposed as well. They began thrusting against each other, their bodies almost slamming together. Cuddy bent down and began kissing House forcefully, pushing her tongue deep into his mouth. House reciprocated with his tongue, attempting to go after her tonsils.

Cuddy's orgasm came first. Her entire body shook and she saw colors and lights flashing in her eyes. More out of instinct than any conscious choice, she continued to ride House until his orgasm came, his deep moan of release rumbling through his body and her own. She fell into a heap beside him.

No words were spoken between them. Not only were they out of breath, but they simply felt too much inside to risk speaking. They reached for each other and pulled themselves together as tightly as possible, not wanting to let go of either the passion or the emotion. They stayed like that for a while, until House's leg and the coldness of the floor forced them to get up.

They didn't really want to be physically separated just yet, so they returned to the bedroom and got back in bed. They snuggled as close as they possibly could under the covers, their arms and legs tangled together. They fell asleep inhaling each others' breath.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

They woke up to the sound of the Cuddy's cell ringing. She grabbed the phone and saw it was her sister. She checked the clock; it was almost 4:30.

"Hello, Lena." Cuddy said as she flipped open the phone.

"We're on our way back to your house," Lena said. "I left the kids with David and I'm bringing Rachael by myself. I thought it would be easier that way."

"Hi, Mommy," Rachael shouted in the background. Cuddy smiled when she heard her.

"We'll be in there in about fifteen minutes," Lena informed Cuddy.

"See you soon," Cuddy said. In her happiness to hear Rachael's voice, it took her a second to realize that she and House had only a few minutes to get dressed.

At least the phone conversation had woken up House. "When's Mini Evil One going to be here with the kid?" House asked.

"In fifteen minutes," Cuddy replied, having neither the time nor the inclination to protest House's less than complimentary nickname for her sister. "We have to get up and get dressed right now."

"Oh, man," House groaned. He had gotten used to walking around with everything hanging out, and he wasn't sure wanted to confine little Greg again. He never understood the appeal of a nudist colony until now. Still, with the kid around, and realizing he'd have to get used to wearing clothes for his return to work tomorrow, he resigned himself to coverage, got up and put on a pair boxers, jeans and a t-shirt.

Cuddy was already dressed and was combing her hair in the bathroom. House went in to check his hair and tried to smooth it down as best he could. He stood behind Cuddy and slid his arms around her waist.

"This was a great weekend," House said, resting his chin on the top of Cuddy's head.

"I hope it works," Cuddy replied.

"Even if it doesn't, the worst thing that can happen is that we have to do it again," House countered with a grin.

"Who knew the effects of failure could be so pleasant?" Cuddy asked.

"See what happens when you stop obsessing?" House asked triumphantly.

House went into the living room, sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote. The doorbell rang and within a few minutes, Rachael ran into the living room, followed by Cuddy.

"Your sister isn't coming in, I take it?" House asked warily.

"She had to go," Cuddy replied. "Besides, I'm sure she was trying to avoid a certain someone."

"Well, she made a smart move, for once," House said.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and turned to Rachael, "How was your weekend, Rachael?"

"Okay," Rachael said, without much enthusiasm. "I missed you."

"We missed you, too, sweetie," Cuddy replied, with House rolling his eyes in response this time. "What did you do?"

Rachael proceeded to give Cuddy a detailed account of her every waking moment during the weekend.

Knowing that Cuddy had to get dinner ready, House said, "Hey, can this fascinating conversation be moved to the kitchen? I'm trying to watch TV here."

Cuddy and Rachael left the room.

The rest of the weekend consisted of eating dinner, watching some more TV and Rachael going to bed, followed shortly by House and Cuddy. They had sex one more time before falling into an exhausted yet blissful sleep.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: This chapter is a little short, but I'll make up for it with the next two, I promise. Thanks to everyone who put this story on their alerts and favorites. And the reviews have been great, too.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

Cuddy was about to test to see if she was pregnant when she got her period. She was disappointed, of course, but she knew it was too much to expect for her to become pregnant the first month they tried. By the third month, as much as she enjoyed the sex with House, she had to admit she was becoming a little discouraged. She knew that they could always try fertility treatments if the sex didn't work, but she really wanted to have a baby the natural way, if at all possible.

Besides, they were running out of people to take care of Rachael when they needed to be alone. Wilson had already watched her for a weekend and so had Chase and Cameron. They weren't that enthusiastic about either Foreman and Hadley or Taub and his wife watching Rachael, and they were certainly less than thrilled with the idea of Rachael being watched by Cuddy's sister again. At least House was.

Budget approval season came in the meantime and Cuddy had a particularly busy couple of weeks with a lot of late nights. She was very tired -- coming home, grabbing whatever dinner was left over (mostly takeout since House didn't cook), and going straight to bed. By the end of the two weeks, she was feeling like she had the flu. _Oh, great_, she thought. _I just don't have time to get sick right now._

She spent the weekend taking it easy (except for all the work she brought home), but she really didn't feel much better by Monday. She was so preoccupied that it took until she was at work and looking at her already overloaded calendar for her to notice that she was past due for a pregnancy test. She went into her private bathroom and did the test.

She didn't even have the chance to look at it when the phone rang in her office. She tossed the stick in the cup, got her clothes back together and ran to get the phone. It turned out to be an unscheduled conference call that lasted forty minutes.

Toward the end of the call, she started to get a headache. After it was over, she went back to her bathroom to get an acetaminophen. She saw the cup and pulled out the test stick. She gasped and sat down on the toilet. It was positive! She was so shocked it took her a second to gather her thoughts. She had to tell House!

She then had a thought and smiled. She called her OB/GYN and asked if she could fit her in for a short appointment. Since it was Cuddy, the doctor's secretary said the OB/GYN would see her immediately. (_Sometimes, it's good to be Dean of Medicine_, Cuddy thought.) She left her office, telling her assistant she had to deal with a problem on the seventh floor.

Cuddy had brought the test stick with her, just so House wouldn't find it if he decided to snoop around her office while she was gone. She showed it to the OB/GYN, who ordered a full pregnancy work up.

Cuddy came back down to her office. She knew she wouldn't get the file with the results until the next day. She was worried she would somehow slip and let House know, or he would figure it out. Luckily, she had meetings through the rest of the day and had to go to another meeting at a restaurant that night.

She successfully avoided House for the rest of the day. She got home very late, and he was actually asleep, for once. He rolled over and spooned with her when she got into bed, but he didn't really wake up.

Cuddy had another early morning meeting and left before House got up. He put Rachael on the school bus. (And he felt tremendously put upon, and let everyone know it, of course.)

Cuddy snuck up to her OB/GYN's office at lunch and retrieved the file. All the tests were normal, and she was about six weeks pregnant.

She finally had a break in her calendar at about three. She had made sure House was in the clinic, and she sat in her office waiting until he was between patients. Just as he was reaching for a new patient's file, Cuddy leaned out of the door of her secretary's office.

"House," she bellowed, perhaps a little louder than was necessary, but she wanted him to think that she was mad at him. "In my office, now!"

House flinched when he heard Cuddy shout his name, but he realized there was no escape. He resigned himself to being chewed out and limped into her office.

"What did you do now, House?" Cuddy said in her most angry voice as she handed him the file.

"I'm sure my usual excellent job," House said in a sarcastic voice as he opened the file. He began reading it without looking at the patient's name, which never interested him. "Forty-five year old female, normal blood work, about six weeks pregnant," he read.

He was about to ask why he should care about any of this, when he happened to glance at the name in the file. All the blood drained from House's face and his eyes glazed over in shock for a moment. When he retuned to his senses, he became aware that Cuddy had moved from behind her desk and was standing in front of him. Her face wore the same silly little expression it had the time she gave him the plane tickets to Canada for the vacation he never took.

Without thinking, House pulled her into his arms and gave her the deepest kiss he was capable of, which was pretty deep. Cuddy responded in kind. They continued kissing this way for a good five minutes, until they realized that neither Cuddy nor House had bothered to close the blinds. They looked out the windows of Cuddy's office to see the entire nursing staff on the floor, most of the clinic patients that were able to walk, and at least five drug reps staring at their activities.

"What now?" House asked, peering at the crowd that had gathered.

Cuddy slowly walked to the windows, closed the blinds and locked the door. She walked over to House. "I'm not done celebrating," She said with a wicked grin on her face. She turned back to him and began kissing him again, and pushing him toward the couch. She gave him a final gentle push and he was sitting. She climbed on his lap, unbuttoned the top button of his jeans and unzipped them. She reached into his boxers and began to stroke his cock with her hand, applying only light pressure. "I'd like to reward you and your swimmers," she whispered.

"Your ovum had something to do with it," House said as he hiked up her skirt, pushed away the fabric of her thong and began rubbing her.

They continued to pleasure each other with their hands for a few minutes.

"I have a meeting at four," Cuddy said in a low voice. "We better get this show on the road."

She pushed down his boxers, and his erection reached its full height. She slid off her thong and sat on his lap. She then guided him inside her.

At this point, they were all passion and connection and expectation, so it didn't take long for either of them to climax. They rested in each other's arms.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

House didn't want Cuddy to leave but she had that damn meeting. They both got up and got dressed.

"When will you be home tonight?" he asked, his voice betraying a concern it never had before. "You need to start taking it easier."

"It's only supposed to be a half-hour meeting, so I won't be home any later than seven," Cuddy replied, hoping House would still be feeling the effects of the afterglow and be unable to think too clearly. No such luck.

"A half-hour meeting starting at four that doesn't end until seven?" House asked incredulously. "Remember my ability to do the math?"

"Well, I have more paperwork to do after the meeting, but it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, I think," Cuddy said, hoping to appease him.

"Guess what?" House asked in his coldest voice. "Stay as long as you want. I'm going out with Wilson tonight and I might not be home at all."

House headed toward the door.

"That isn't fair," Cuddy said. "You're punishing me for doing my job!"

House spun around. "You're the one who's punishing _us_ by thinking that The Great Lisa Cuddy has to do it all. You're forty-five and you've had two miscarriages. If you want to lose this kid because of your obsessive need to control everything, I can't stop you. Just don't expect me to be around to watch and hold your hand when it all goes tragically wrong!"

House limped as quickly as he could out of her office and headed toward the elevators. Cuddy fell back into her chair. How could she have been so elated only a few minutes ago, and now be on the verge of tears? She wanted to be furious with House. God knows, he had given her enough ammunition over the years. But, damn, this time he was actually right.

_Shit_ she thought, looking at the clock. It was 4:05. She rushed to get her paperwork together and run to the meeting. In her haste, she knocked a large stack of papers off her desk and they went everywhere. _Dammit_. She sat back down in her chair, taking a deep breath to keep from crying in frustration. She hit the intercom button and told her assistant to cancel the meeting, and to clear her calendar for the rest of the week.

Cuddy then called Foreman and told him that House would be on vacation until Monday (she sensed he resisted the urge to ask how he could tell), and that if any cases came in, he and the team could handle it. She authorized him to pull in Chase or Cameron if he needed to.

She then called Wilson, hoping that House hadn't gotten to him first.

"James," Cuddy said after Wilson picked up his phone. "Has House been by to see you since lunch?"

"No," Wilson replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, he just said something to me about you guys going out tonight and I wondered if you had agreed to go with him," Cuddy said, not giving him the full story.

"Gee, after what happened in your office, I can't imagine why he would want to spend the evening with _me_," Wilson stated in a teasing tone.

"Wow, the grapevine sure is lightning fast today," Cuddy muttered, in almost too quiet a voice for Wilson to hear. She decided just to come clean. "Wilson, this is not for publication, but I'm pregnant. House and I had a fight because he says I'm working too hard."

"Wait, what?" Wilson sputtered. "You're pregnant? Congratulations!" Wilson sounded genuinely happy. "Oh, and House is absolutely right, what with your age and history of miscarriages."

"Yeah, I know," Cuddy admitted in a soft voice. "That's why I cleared my calendar for the rest of the week. I cleared his calendar, too. Listen, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure," Wilson answered, hopeful to hear Cuddy say she was actually not going to work for the next few days.

"When he comes to ask you if you want to go out, can you say yes, and then find some excuse to bring him back home?" Cuddy asked.

"Well, I can always tell him I want to try some new upscale restaurant. With the way he dresses for work, he can't argue that he doesn't need to go home and change. Any particular time you want us to show up?"

"How about six?" Cuddy said, figuring that she could get home and be ready by then.

"I'll hang around here for a while. I've always got patient files to catch up on," Wilson agreed. "Hey, what about Rachael? I know she has school the next few days, but do you want me to take her for the weekend?"

"Thanks for offering," Cuddy acknowledged. "Let's see if House is still speaking to me, then we'll decide. Could you take her for dinner tonight, so I can talk to House?"

"Okay," Wilson said. "Oh, here he comes." Wilson hung up the phone before he and Cuddy had the chance to say goodbye.

House hadn't gone immediately to Wilson's office after leaving Cuddy's office because he was just too angry. He knew Wilson would figure out something was wrong. He was pretty sure it would be okay to tell Wilson about Cuddy being pregnant, but he sure as hell didn't want to get a lecture about not upsetting Cuddy now that she was in the family way, blah, blah, blah. (Of course, House had no idea that Wilson was actually agreeing with him this time. It was just such a rare occurrence that House simply couldn't imagine it.)

"Hey, Wilson, are you free tonight?" House asked as he burst into Wilson's office, trying to sound nonchalant. "You want to go out?"

Wilson looked up from his paperwork. "Okay, I guess. Where do you want to go?"

"Dunno," House responded. "Any ideas?"

House was playing right into Wilson's (and Cuddy's) hands. "There's this new restaurant I've been wanting to try . . . " Wilson began.

"Well, I will need to eat dinner, so I guess that works," House snarked.

Wilson made a bit of a show checking out what House was wearing. "It's upscale, so I think you're going to have to change."

House really didn't want to risk going home and seeing Cuddy, even if he was justified in what he said to her, for once. "Isn't there any other place we can go?" he asked in frustration.

"Not that I'm really interested in. Hey, if you want to go out some other time, that's okay with me," Wilson gambled, thinking that House wouldn't want to have to deal with Cuddy after their fight.

"No, we'll go where you want to," House responded, afraid of losing his human shield. If Cuddy wasn't going to be home until seven, he could get home and get changed without seeing her. He could pick up a change of clothes, too. (He'd let Wilson know then that he had invited himself over to Wilson's place.)

"So, should I meet you there?" Wilson gambled again, pretty sure House wouldn't risk going home on his own.

"No, I'll wait for you here," House responded.

Wilson did paperwork until about 5:30. He went to House's office. "Ready?"

"It's about damn time," House grunted.

House took his motorcycle and Wilson followed with his car. They pulled in the driveway of Cuddy's house at almost exactly six.

House hopped off his motorcycle and went to the front window of Wilson's car. "Come in with me," House insisted.

"Why? Do you need my help to change clothes, House?" Wilson snarked.

"I want to make sure my outfit measures up to your standards," House snarked back.

They went in the front door and they smelled food. At first, House thought Rachael's babysitter was cooking something for her for dinner. Except it didn't smell like mac and cheese. More like kung pao beef, one of House's favorites.

Cuddy entered the hallway. She was wearing some baggy sweats and one of House's faded t-shirts. She had removed her makeup and had her hair pulled back loosely. _Damn, this woman could look sexy wearing a paper bag, getting over the flu_, House thought.

Rachael came into the hallway. "Can we go to McDonald's, Uncle James?" she asked excitedly.

"No," Wilson responded, thinking it was neither very healthy for her nor very appetizing to him. "How about Chili's?" he asked, hoping it was kid-friendly enough for her and that he could get a semi-decent meal for himself.

"Awesome," Rachael said, putting on her coat.

"See you around eight," Wilson said as Rachael pulled him out the door.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Don't Own etc.**

"What just happened?" House asked, genuinely puzzled. "And why are you here?"

"Well, I had a memorable discussion with someone this afternoon, and he reminded me what my priorities need to be right now," Cuddy said.

"He was convincing, was he?" House inquired.

"Brutally so," Cuddy answered, wincing at the memory of their fight.

"What happened to your meeting and all your paperwork?" House asked, looking around for her laptop and a stack of files.

"I cancelled the meeting and I left the paperwork at the office," Cuddy explained. "Oh, I cleared my schedule until the end of the week, and yours, too."

"Mine?" House asked, not sure he wanted to be away from work that long himself.

"Hey, you don't want me sitting around here, getting bored and finding ways to work at home, do you?" Cuddy responded.

"No!" House answered emphatically. "Hey, did I smell Chinese?"

"Right this way," Cuddy said, moving towards the kitchen.

House followed, checking out her ass as a little bonus. The kitchen table was set with paper plates and the food was still in the cartons, unlike Cuddy's usual habit of putting it in bowls. "Minimal clean-up," Cuddy explained.

"Stick with me, and I'll turn you into a lazy slob in no time," House noted with approval.

"Just trying to take it easy and spend my time on what's important," Cuddy clarified.

They ate their meal in relative ease, although there was still some lingering tension. They were finishing up when Cuddy asked, "Would you really leave me if I lose the baby," voicing her deepest fears.

"God, Cuddy, is that what you got out of what I said?" House asked in exasperation. "I wanted to get your attention. You have no choice but to take care of yourself."

"I know," Cuddy admitted. "But the thought of losing you and our child . . . " Cuddy's voice trailed off as her eyes filled with tears.

"You can't possibly be that hormonal at six weeks." House's words were sarcastic but his tone was gentle. "You have to know that I wouldn't leave you. But you need to stop thinking that the world will end if Lisa Cuddy doesn't attend to every detail herself."

"Not the world," Cuddy explained, "just Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."

House rolled his eyes. "What? Don't you think if you got hit by a bus tomorrow, or, rather, you were on a bus that got hit by a garbage truck," House noticed Cuddy winced at that particular memory, "that they'd have someone else sitting in your chair before it even had the chance to get cold?"

"I know," Cuddy admitted. "It's just hard for me to let things go."

"Why?" House asked.

"I don't know," Cuddy replied. "Hey, it's not like you're Mr. Easy Going yourself."

"True," House replied, "But at least I've admitted my addictions to Vicodin and puzzles."

"I'm not addicted," Cuddy asserted with an air of superiority.

"Really?" House asked with one eyebrow raised. "You can't keep away from that place. You work there Christmas Eve."

"I'm Jewish," Cuddy interjected, as if that explained everything.

"You're there on Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Passover, too," House added.

"Okay," Cuddy said, "You made your point."

"Which is?" House asked, still trying to get her to admit it.

"I can be a little obsessive about things," Cuddy offered, hoping House would accept it.

"You're an addict!" House roared in frustration.

"Why is it so important that I say that?" Cuddy asked.

"Because admitting it is the first step in recovery," House countered triumphantly.

"Yeah, admitting it has worked so well to fix you," Cuddy countered in her own triumphant voice.

"You won't even acknowledge that you have a problem!" House exclaimed. "Cuddy, why is it so important that you control everything? Why do you need that so much?"

"I don't know," Cuddy replied. "You have to make sure everything is right. You have to make sure everything is under your control. When bad things happen, it's your fault . . . "

"What? Why?" House asked.

Cuddy's eyes looked off into the distance. "His name was Jeffrey. I was fifteen and he invited me to his senior prom. All my friends were so jealous," Cuddy began. "I had a beautiful dress. He even bought me a corsage. We went to the prom and he asked me to go with him after to meet his friends at a restaurant. He had been such a gentleman I never expected . . . he got me in his car, locked the doors . . . and . . . "

"He raped you, didn't he?" House asked in his softest voice. He wanted to put his arms around Cuddy and hold her, but her expression was so vacant and far away.

"When he dropped me off at home, I told my mom, and she said it was my own fault for being so naïve and weak," Cuddy related. "She said that if I had just been strong enough, it wouldn't have happened. After that, I knew I was on my own. That I was completely responsible for everything that happened to me. That I had to take control of every situation before bad things happened."

House imagined Cuddy at fifteen, fresh-faced and beautiful in her dress. In his mind's eye, he saw the openness and innocence on her face. His heart broke at the thought of all that being so quickly and viciously torn away from her.

He pulled her towards him and encircled her in his arms, placing her head on his shoulder as he rested his cheek against hers. She felt his familiar stubble and the soothing vibration of his voice when he spoke. "Your shoulders are just not big enough to carry all that," he murmured softly. "It's time to let it go."

"I know," Cuddy was trying to hold back her tears.

"I'm pretty crappy at it, what with being an asshole and a cripple and all, but I'll try to protect you and our children," House said as his own voice started breaking.

"Oh, House, I know you will," Cuddy choked out as the sobbing overtook her.

"It's okay, Lisa," House said, trying to comfort her. He held her until she stopped crying. She wiped her eyes and looked at the clock on the microwave. "Wilson should be back with Rachael soon," she said as she got up to put the leftovers in the refrigerator and threw away the plates. House put the flatware in the dishwasher. They stood in the middle of the kitchen and put their arms around each other.

They heard the front door open and Rachael and Wilson come in. They went out in the hallway to greet them.

"Dinner was great," Rachael exclaimed, as she headed toward Cuddy to give her a hug.

I hope your dinner was . . . good," Wilson said to House and Cuddy, with some hope in his voice. It was pretty obvious Cuddy had been crying.

"It was very, um, insightful," House said, trying to find a word that would clue in Wilson that they had talked about something important without having Rachael start to ask questions.

"You have to get ready for bed, sweetie," Cuddy said to Rachael. "It's a school night. Say 'thank you' to Uncle James for taking you to dinner."

"Okay," Rachael sighed, with minimal enthusiasm. "Thank you, Uncle James." She hugged him and headed down the hall toward her room.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Wilson replied. "I have to get going. Some of us have work in the morning," he said with a big smile. "Call me if you want me to take Rachael this weekend," he added.

Rachael was in bed within the half hour.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: I hope I haven't wandered into "Ah, that explains everything" territory here. I love strong women characters, and I don't want to reduce Cuddy to a one-sentence explanation, especially one involving serious dysfunction. (Oh, she learned to be strong because she was raped.) I was trying to explain not necessarily her strength, but more her need to control things. Anyway, let me know what you think.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I just wanted to respond to some of the reviews that reflect Cuddy-Mom-Hate. First of all, I understand the way I have portrayed her is not sympathetic, so I do understand why people don't particularly like her. Having said that, I would like to put some things in context for some younger readers and those from places other than the U.S. The idea of date rape being an issue (not the act itself, but the general consensus that it was a problem) really didn't exist in the U.S. until probably the mid-1980s. (If you want an interesting court case involving the confusion surrounding the issue of marital rape from that era, google John and Greta Rideout.) The general view before that (and in some more conservative quarters, well after that) was either to deny its existence or to blame the woman for it (if she hadn't put herself in that position, it wouldn't have happened, etc.). So, in my mind, Cuddy's mom was motivated by a series of things, including not wanting to embarrass her family, and quite possibly, sheer ignorance of the issue. It doesn't make it right, but it does make it more understandable. My preference is to think of characters as having more than one dimension, and as products of their own eras. I find that more interesting than simply disliking them. Anyway, this chapter is a lot more fluffy, and, I think, hotter, so enjoy!

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

House and Cuddy were sitting on the couch in the living room. "So, what are we going to do now that we have all this time in the next few days?" House asked.

"Well, I'd like to do some 'Mommy' stuff like putting Rachael on the school bus in the morning," Cuddy replied.

"As long as you don't get up three hours early to make her a gourmet four-course breakfast," House said, worrying that without work, Cuddy would turn her obsessive behavior to household tasks. "You also have to promise not to spend the next five days cleaning the house from top to bottom."

"How about if I just clean out the closets?" Cuddy asked.

"We don't have to have another fight about this, do we?" House warned.

"Okay," Cuddy backed off. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't we look for a new house?"

House, no fan of change, was reluctant. He had already given up his apartment of nearly twenty years to move in with Cuddy. "What's wrong with staying where we are?"

"I was single and childless when I bought this house, and it was just about the right size then. Pretty soon, it's going to have two adults and two children full time, plus one adult part time. It's just too small."

"What do you mean, one adult part time?" House asked warily. "Your sister isn't throwing out her loser husband, is she?"

"Not that I know of," Cuddy laughed. "And not that he could stay here of she did. No, I was thinking of Wilson, actually. Didn't he used to stay over sometimes when you were in your apartment?"

"He slept on the couch, and he can still do that here," House replied.

"Except that he hasn't," Cuddy reminded him.

"Maybe that's because it's your house, Cuddy," House responded.

"That's precisely my point. If we bought a house together, I think he would feel more welcome to just hang out with you, including staying over when he needed to." Cuddy said. "Besides, your piano is in the third bedroom, which would have to be the nursery if we stayed here. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want it moved to the garage."

"I'd rather put the kid out there," House grumbled. "I guess we are going to need a new place."

"We can start looking tomorrow!" Cuddy exclaimed.

"Provided it doesn't become your next obsession," House insisted. "I don't want you thinking you can survey and conquer the entire Princeton-Trenton housing market in three days."

"Actually, we should to start with a list of what we want and need," Cuddy began. "One of the major donors to the hospital is a commercial real estate agent. I'm sure he could give us the names of some good residential agents. I'd better get some paper to write this down."

"Cud-_dy_," House gave her his best Ricky Ricardo voice.

"Okay, we'll start in the morning," Cuddy replied sheepishly.

Since it was fairly early, Cuddy had assumed that House would stay up when she went to bed. He surprised her by following her into the bedroom.

"I'm going to get undressed now," Cuddy announced awkwardly. House was standing there staring at her and it felt a little weird.

She reached for the tie that held her hair back.

"Let me do that," House said softly. He undid the tie and gently ran his fingers through her hair. Without thinking, Cuddy pushed her head back against his hands, thoroughly enjoying the sensation.

Keeping his hands in her hair, House began to kiss her face. "God, you look so beautiful tonight," he murmured.

That statement surprised Cuddy enough for her to be able to gather her thoughts and speak.

"What, do baggy sweats, no makeup, and your old t-shirt do something for you?" she asked in a gently mocking tone.

"Yes, they do," House replied softly, in between the kisses he was placing on her throat.

House tugged at said t-shirt and Cuddy pulled it off over her head. She was not wearing a bra.

House looked at Cuddy's breasts. Cuddy noticed the usual lust on his face, but mixed in was a look of almost, well, reverence. He tenderly caressed her right breast while his mouth kissed and licked her left breast. His tongue made gentle circles over her nipple. He then reversed his hand and his mouth and did the same thing to her right breast.

His kissed his way down her abdomen. He stopped and untied the string that held up her sweatpants. He pulled at the waist and the pants slid down her legs to the floor and she stepped out of them. She was also not wearing any panties.

House murmured his approval. He began to run his fingers through her pubic hair. His mouth continued down past her hips to her legs. He began to maneuver her toward the bed. He laid her down gently.

He kissed her calves and shins and began kissing her feet. Cuddy hated to admit it, but this was a tremendous turn on for her. She let out a moan when House licked and nipped at her soles while his hand reached up again and began stroking her lips. His thumb then began stroking her clit. Cuddy moaned again, this time much louder. House took his time pleasuring her, moving his fingers inside her. He didn't stop until she climaxed.

Cuddy was soaking wet. House moved so his head hovered near her entrance. Once again, Cuddy noticed his face was full of lust, and also a kind of awe she had never seen before. He dived into her, his mouth finding every spot that gave her pleasure. His tongue found her clit and he didn't stop until she had another orgasm.

Cuddy's body was little more than a quivering mass at this point. House looked at her and asked in a husky voice, "Are you ready for me, Lisa?"

She nodded, wanting him more than she had ever wanted anyone. He began slowly inserting himself into her. She was so far gone that she almost came with just the initial contact, but she tried to hang on. House's thrusts came hard and fast. She had another orgasm, this one even more intense than the last two. House released inside her.

After they both caught their breath, House pulled her head toward his chest and stroked her hair, just like at the start. His hand made its way to her abdomen and rested lightly there. It took a moment, but Cuddy realized this sex wasn't about the baby (although his hand was right now betraying how he felt). House had just made her feel like the sexiest woman alive.

She knew that she should probably just bask in the glow, but her curiosity got the best of her. "House, what was . . . that?"

House paused before he answered. He could try to give her some bullshit about how he was expressing his love and gratitude to the mother of his child, but he knew he would choke on it before it passed his lips. He had to answer honestly. "I wanted you to know that I think you are the hottest woman on the planet."

"So, this is some kind of consolation sex before I start to put on baby weight?" Cuddy asked with a smile.

House didn't want to admit the real reason to her. It would have been so easy to just agree with her, especially since it didn't seem like it would upset her, but he couldn't do it.

"Um, no," he said, looking away from her. "Earlier, when you told me about what happened to you . . . " House paused, completely unsure of the effect of what he was about to say, "I know that women are never the same after something like that happens to them. They usually have difficulties when it comes to their sexuality. I didn't know what bringing up that memory would do to you. I just wanted you to feel how incredibly desirable you are. I . . . I want you all the time, Lisa. Every minute of every day . . . "

It took Cuddy a moment to realize the meaning of what House had said. Truth be told, although she had enjoyed sex with other men, she never felt as comfortable or as hot as she did with House. That was why her knees went weak at the sight of him or the sound of his voice. That was why she kept coming back to him even when he tried to push her away.

But this was beyond the sex itself. House was trying to show her how desirable she was. Just how much he wanted her. No matter what. Between the intensity of the sex and this revelation, Cuddy was almost too overwhelmed to react. A small part of her brain recognized that she better respond, or House would think what he told her didn't mean anything to her.

"House," she said, groping for words, "Thank you for this . . . it means . . . I can be sexual as well as everything else I have to be . . . it means you want me as much as I want you."

House was about to reach his limit as far as emotion was concerned. "You're not going to start singing, 'You Make Me Feel Like A Natural Woman' are you?" House snarked.

Cuddy laughed. "It's time for me to get some rest, according to my doctors."

Cuddy snuggled next to House and they fell asleep in each other's arms.

.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

House woke up at his usual time. He heard voices in the kitchen and limped his way there. Rachael was finishing up her cereal. "See, no four-course gourmet breakfast," Cuddy said, pointing to the bowl of leftover milk.

"Mommy wanted to give me toast, bacon, eggs, and fruit, but I just wanted cereal," Rachael said.

"Ah-ha!" House exclaimed in an accusatory voice. "I assume you've gone on-line and found us the perfect house, too."

"What house?" Rachael asked.

"We think we might be moving, honey," Cuddy explained.

"Why?" Rachael questioned her mother.

"Well, I think this house is getting a little small for us and all our stuff," Cuddy answered, deciding not to tell Rachael about the baby just yet.

"Will I have to go to another school?" Rachael asked, sounding concerned.

"We're going to try to find a house in your current school district, but it is possible you will have to change schools," Cuddy answered honestly this time.

"I don't want to go to another school!" Rachael pouted.

"Let's see what happens first, okay?" Cuddy pleaded.

"All right," Rachael reluctantly agreed.

Cuddy waited with Rachael for the bus and came back inside. House was in the shower. He finished and Cuddy went in. She came out wrapped in a towel. House was dressed and sitting on the bed.

"So, when are you going to tell the kid about the baby?" House asked.

"I'd like to get past the first trimester, just in case . . . anything happens." Cuddy didn't actually want to give voice to her fears. "She really wants a sibling, and I don't want to disappoint her."

"Just make sure you don't wait until you're showing. You don't want to have to hear a bunch of fat jokes," House snarked.

"House!" Cuddy said in annoyance.

"So, are we embarking on The Great Homebuyer's Quest today?" House asked.

"We need to figure out what we want first," Cuddy replied as she got dressed. After she finished they went into the kitchen and she got out a piece of paper and a pen.

"Let's see," Cuddy said as she began writing, "Located in the same school district, all on one floor, preferably, or at a minimum, a master suite on the first floor, either five bedrooms or four bedrooms with a big enough family room to accommodate your piano, three and one-half bathrooms, including the one in the master suite, one attached to the guest room, and one for Rachael and the baby to share, a two-car attached garage and a formal dining room. It would be great to have a formal living room, but I would give that up for a library. A deck or patio would be nice, but we can always add one of those later, as long as the back yard is big enough. Did I forget anything?"

"Yeah," House growled. "How do you intend to pay for this palace?"

"With the proceeds from the sale of this house, plus some of your savings from stealing Wilson's lunches all these years, we should have enough for a large down payment and enough to keep our mortgage payments lower. With our combined salaries, we would be able to swing it," Cuddy reasoned.

"Does this mean I get a raise?" House asked hopefully.

"It's a possibility, as long as it doesn't go for visits to OTB," Cuddy replied.

"You are absolutely no fun when you are buying a home," House complained.

"I need to make some calls now," Cuddy said.

House retreated to the living room to watch TV while Cuddy got on the phone. Given that the real estate market was a little slow, she managed to get an appointment to see an agent that afternoon.

Rachael's babysitter was all set to pick her up from after school care, since Cuddy had planned to work late through the end of the week. If it took a while with the agent, they didn't have to think about getting back at a specific time. At least because of Rachael. Cuddy wasn't sure, with House's limited attention span, how long it would be before he started whining to come back home.

They ate lunch and left for the realtor's office.

They found the address, parked in a handicapped space, and went into the office. It was very nicely furnished, with a receptionist who seated them and offered them coffee or tea.

"Hi, I'm Sarah Philbert." A very tall woman with too much makeup, hair dyed almost bright red (to match her ridiculously long, fake nails), and obviously enhanced boobs greeted them. "I'm here to help you fulfill your dreams."

House and Cuddy both faked coughs to keep from laughing. They instinctively knew not to look at each other or they would lose it.

"Um, it's nice to meet you," Cuddy choked out. "I'm Dr. Lisa Cuddy and this is Dr. Gregory House."

"A genuine pleasure," Sarah stated with a completely false smile. "Why don't you come into my office?"

She walked a few steps ahead of House and Cuddy. "If there's a web in there, I'm outta here," House whispered out of the side of his mouth to Cuddy.

Cuddy suppressed a giggle, and swatted House on the arm. "Try to behave," she pleaded.

"I received a call from Mr. Burton that you might be contacting me. When you made the appointment, I was thrilled. Although I have many prestigious clients, it isn't every day that I have the opportunity to assist a dean of medicine and a department head of a major metropolitan hospital," Ms. Philbert gushed.

"God, she's laying it on with a trowel," House muttered to Cuddy. "How does she spew all that bullshit and keep a straight face?"

"Let's just get through this," Cuddy said in a low voice.

"What can I help you with?" Sarah asked unctuously.

"I have a list of what we are looking for, with requirements on one side and wants on the other," Cuddy stated matter-of-factly. With her usual super efficiency, Cuddy had typed up the list she was working on earlier, and handed a copy of it to the agent, a copy to House and kept a copy for herself.

"Let's see what we have here," Sarah said as she perused the list. "Well, all of this seems doable."

"Honey," House said, using his most saccharine voice as he looked at Cuddy.

_Uh-Oh_, Cuddy thought, _what the hell is he up to now_.

"This list is incomplete," House continued. "Remember we discussed that we would need a basement?"

"Would that be a finished or an unfinished basement?" Sarah inquired.

"Well," House began, "finished is always nice. But, it's easier to soundproof an unfinished basement, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Philbert responded. "Are you planning to build a home theater?"

"Not exactly," House replied. "I was thinking of another hobby Dr. Cuddy and I enjoy. An unfinished basement has more of that dungeon feel, which works better as a décor for our shackles, cat o' nine tails and nipple clamps."

Sarah didn't react at all. "Well, I'm sure we can accommodate that."

Cuddy was torn. On the one hand, she wanted to kill House for potentially starting a crazy rumor about them. Cuddy was pretty sure there was no such thing as realtor-buyer confidentiality, and she really didn't want anything outlandish to get back to one of the hospital's major donors. On the other hand, she appreciated the fact that House found a way to test the agent's mettle. Cuddy concluded that anyone who could put up with House's antics would be okay. She may not have wanted to make Sarah Philbert her best friend, but she knew that she (and House) could work with her.

"So, do you know of any properties that we might be able to look at?" Cuddy asked.

"I think I have two that might interest you," Sarah replied.

They spent the afternoon and early evening looking at the two houses. House wasn't thrilled with them and Cuddy actually disliked them. They returned to Sarah's office to pick up Cuddy's car, and Sarah promised she would keep looking for them.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

It was still fairly early, so they decided to go out to dinner before heading home, just so they could talk without having Rachael hear and debate every word. House suggested his favorite diner because it wasn't expensive and it was on the way back to Cuddy's place. They were seated and ordered dinner quickly.

"Why didn't you like those places she showed us?" House asked.

"Well, neither of them was much larger than my house is," Cuddy began. "And they didn't have most of the things we wanted. You know, it might help if we gave the agent a better idea of what were able to spend. I have a good idea what I can get for my house, but I have no idea what you can contribute."

"Cuddy, you're so predictable. You're always trying to get your hands on my assets," House replied with a wicked grin.

Cuddy smiled. "Seriously, House, can you give me an idea of what you have in savings, so we know what we can afford?" Cuddy asked.

When House told her the number, Cuddy was absolutely shocked by how large an amount it was.

"House, is that money you have saved over the years?" she inquired.

"Over the past ten years, plus the occasional very good pick at the track," House replied.

"I had no idea," Cuddy said, still trying to get over the shock.

"Yeah, well, I figured I'd need it," House responded.

"Why?" Cuddy asked, thinking that House didn't have a child to put through college or an expensive lifestyle to maintain.

"It's almost a certainty that there will come a day when I can't walk at all," House said looking down at the food the waitress had just put on the table. "I didn't have anyone who would get within ten feet of me, let alone be willing to take care of me when I can't take care of myself. I had to make sure I had enough money to pay someone to help me, or at least afford a nursing home, and we both know how expensive that can be."

Cuddy imagined House trapped in a wheelchair in some place where the only stimulation for his brilliant mind would be trying to diagnose patients who were so old that no one cared why they were sick. She felt her heart break. "You know that isn't true any more, don't you?"

"What?" House asked softly.

"That there is no one to take care of you," Cuddy replied. "You are now part of a family that loves you very much, and that is about to get bigger and love you even more."

"If I don't screw it up," House said in almost a whisper.

"You won't," Cuddy reassured him. "I won't let you."

House's eyes were shining. "I guess your being obsessive does have an upside. Let's eat, okay?"

They ate their dinner, talking about the houses they had seen and laughing over Sarah Phlibert's oily style. After they finished, House put his hand on the table, and Cuddy laced her fingers through his.

"We have to get back," Cuddy stated. "The babysitter is only there until 7:30."

When they got home, Cuddy took a chance and called Sarah. Of course, Sarah didn't get to be Realtor of the Year for three years running by ignoring her calls. When Cuddy told her how much they had to spend, she thought she could actually hear Sarah jump out of her skin.

"After she heard our budget, what did Spiderwoman have to say?" House asked.

"She seemed pretty happy," Cuddy replied. "It must be the sound of cash registers beeping. I think we'll have a few more places to look at tomorrow."


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

Rachael was in bed, and Cuddy found House in the living room watching TV. Cuddy had changed into a t-shirt and old shorts.

"Can I ask you to join me?" Cuddy said.

"I'm not sure I can go to sleep right now," House replied.

"I didn't ask you to come to bed," Cuddy countered. Cuddy headed toward their bedroom and a curious and excited House followed.

After they got inside and closed the door, Cuddy said, "You know how I said there would be someone to care for you when you couldn't do it any more?"

"Yeess," House answered slowly, wondering where the hell this was going.

"Well, I'd like to formally apply for the job," Cuddy said with an inscrutable smile.

"I know what's on your resume," House stated, still unsure of what was happening. "Being a doctor, even one who hasn't practiced in a while, would seem to make you qualified, at least on paper."

"I agree," Cuddy said. "I also thought a demonstration of my skills was in order."

"Does this mean we're going to play doctor?" House asked with an evil grin.

"Not quite, but you're getting closer," Cuddy responded. "I thought that a good portion of taking care of you would involve taking care of your physical needs," Cuddy saw that House was practically salivating at this point. "Part of that would involve making sure you are clean."

"What?" House asked, disappointed that Cuddy wasn't going to perform a physical on him.

"I thought I would give you a sponge bath," Cuddy said with an awkward smile.

House was surprised, to say the least. He had often joked about getting sponge baths from hookers, but he had never actually done it. It seemed too intimate a thing to be done by a stranger whom he wanted to keep at arm's length. He warmed to the idea when it dawned on him that Cuddy would be the one doing it. Certainly she was no stranger.

"Okay," House said, still slightly uncertain.

Cuddy had hoped for a little more enthusiasm, but she realized that just getting simple agreement from House was pretty good. "Please take off your clothes."

"Hey, if this is supposed to simulate how you would take care of me if I couldn't do it myself, don't you have to at least help me?" House asked with an evil grin.

"True," Cuddy said. "Lie down on the bed."

House eased himself on to the bed and watched as Cuddy sat him up and removed his shirt and his t-shirt. She laid him back down and pulled off his shoes and socks. She then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and carefully slid them down and off his legs, being careful of his scar. She did the same with his boxers.

She pulled a blanket over him so he wouldn't get cold and she went into the bathroom to start the water in the tub. She returned and helped him up off the bed and let him lean on her as they walked to the bathroom. They both recognized that this wasn't what would happen if House couldn't walk any more, but they didn't have a wheelchair handy, and neither of them really wanted to dwell on that particular reality, anyway.

Cuddy helped House ease himself into the tub. She got some of his soap, knelt down by the side of the tub and lathered up her hands. She washed his face gently, and rinsed it by cupping water and pouring it down his face.

She put House's chin on her shoulder and lathered up her hands again. She soaped up the back of his neck and his back using circular motions, and then began to rinse by pulling the water up from the tub with her hands.

While House was enjoying every minute of this, he became curious. "Hey, doesn't a sponge bath usually involve the use of a washcloth, or, I don't know, maybe a _sponge_?"

Cuddy had washed his lower cheeks and had gently placed him back against the tub. "Yes, it does. But I truly believe that in this case, the patient will benefit from direct physical contact."

House was barely listening as Cuddy caressed his throat, chest and arms with her soapy and skilled hands. "Whatever you say," he murmured in agreement.

Cuddy traveled down his abdomen and to his hips, making sure to thoroughly yet gently clean some of her favorite parts of his body. _What am I thinking, every part of his body is a one of my favorites_, she smiled to herself.

She pulled his left leg out of the water and soaped him all the way down to his toes. She put his leg back in the water and rubbed it to make sure the soap was off his skin. She looked at House and his face was pure contentment. She worried she would disrupt that contentment when she washed his right leg.

She reached into the water and pulled his right leg out, carefully supporting his thigh while watching for any signs of pain on his face. He winced slightly, but that was the only reaction he had. Again Cuddy's soapy hands made their way up and down his leg, making sure this time to linger over his scar, just to let House know that Cuddy didn't mind touching it. She carefully lowered his right leg into the tub and rubbed it very gently to remove the remainder of the soap. She made a point of caressing his scar again. House reacted with a relaxed sigh.

She put some shampoo on her hands and washed his hair, making sure to give him a scalp massage. She told him to close his eyes as she gathered water from the tub with her hands and poured it over his head until the shampoo was rinsed out.

Cuddy reached for the soap again and worked up a lather. She reached down and very gently washed House's balls. She lathered up one last time and began to work up and down House's cock, beginning with barely any pressure at all and increasing it slowly. Instinctively, House pushed his cock harder into her hands, as his erection became harder and longer.

"I have to make sure it's clean under here," Cuddy said, as she pulled back his foreskin and caressed his tip with a soapy finger. House bucked his hips and moaned. She stopped and focused again on stroking him, this time with greater pressure and speed. House's eyes rolled back in his head and he released, panting heavily.

Cuddy stepped back, enjoying the results of her work – a very clean and completely satisfied House.

Cuddy helped him out of the tub and wrapped him in a towel.

"Are you going to help me get dressed again?" House asked as they headed back to the bedroom.

"I don't think so," Cuddy replied. She removed the towel, pulled back the covers, lowered him down on the bed and covered him up.

"My clothes are wet," she said as she took them off and put them in the laundry basket in the corner of the room. She pulled back the covers on her side of the bed and climbed in next to House.

House was not in much pain, warm and very relaxed, so it took him some time to realize that Cuddy had just fulfilled the sponge bath fantasy he had had since, well, puberty.

"You're hired," House murmured, as they held each other and drifted off to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

House and Cuddy spent a lot of Thursday and Friday looking at places with The Lovely Sarah, but none of them was quite right. They decided to have Wilson take Rachael for the weekend so they could continue their search.

Cuddy was becoming a little frustrated. She really wanted to find an acceptable house, by the end of the weekend, if at all possible. She wasn't sure how realistic that was, but her schedule once she returned to work the following week didn't have a lot of extra time for house-hunting. This was especially true if she wanted to keep her promise to House not to overdo things.

Cuddy was also concerned about the physical demands that looking for a home made on House. When Saturday came around, they had had enough bad leads that they decided that Cuddy would make the first pass with Sarah, and then, if the place had potential, she would go to the car and get House to come and look at it. That way, he wasn't trudging through every place they looked at, increasing the possibility that his leg pain would worsen.

They looked at several houses on Saturday, and none fit the bill, although they were getting closer. Sarah had one more place for them to look at on Sunday afternoon.

When Cuddy read the description of the house, it sounded like what they were looking for, but the last few days had been so disappointing that she didn't want to get her hopes up. It turned out the house was only a few blocks from her current house, in a newer neighborhood.

When she saw the front of the house, she liked it. It had a large, wide porch in front. Cuddy could imagine putting up a gate and letting their toddler run around. The child would still be safe, even if House was absorbed by his playstation and not really watching.

They went in the front door and found themselves in the foyer. Even though the house was a single story, there were high ceilings which gave the entrance an open feel. On the left was the dining room. Cuddy had allowed herself to imagine her furniture in there. The walls were painted a rich burgundy that Cuddy loved.

On the right would usually have been the formal living room. However, the previous owners had converted it to a library with bookshelves on three of the four walls. House's book collection, which had been in storage since he gave up his apartment, would go nicely here. So far, so good.

They walked through a short hallway into a huge, open family room and kitchen. The kitchen had granite countertops and an island with a stove top and a raised counter facing the family room. "You can cook here and watch your daughter in the family room, or she can sit on a stool here and watch you," Sarah said, in her best sales pitch voice.

There was an alcove in the back of the kitchen with windows overlooking the back yard. "This is a perfect spot for a dinette table," Sarah cooed. "You can take your intimate family meals here."

"By 'intimate,' does she mean we should get a table so I can do you here?" House asked in a low voice.

"Pay attention," Cuddy warned, although she couldn't keep from smiling.

Cuddy wanted to see the back yard, but Sarah steered them elsewhere.

"The master suite is this way," she said, leading down a short corridor at the back of the kitchen. They went through a door and entered a huge room with another high, vaulted ceiling. There were sky lights. "This room gets direct sun only in the afternoon, so you can enjoy the light but you won't be woken up by bright sunshine," Sarah continued with her pitch.

The bathroom was also huge, with two sinks, granite countertops, a large glass enclosed shower stall, and large tub. When House noticed all the different angles of the multiple shower heads, his mind became dizzy with the possible ways he and Cuddy could pleasure each other.

The closet was enormous. It had been fitted with shelves and drawers, and even had a space for Cuddy's extensive shoe collection. Cuddy imagined that House would still throw all his clothes and sneakers on the floor, but at least she would enjoy using it.

A back door in the bedroom led out on to a small raised stone patio. It was connected by a walkway to a larger raised stone patio that was accessed off the back of the family room. The patio continued across the entire back of the house, with another entrance off the guest room.

House and Cuddy stepped outside to look at the back yard. It was fenced in and decent-sized. They also heard music coming from the house on their left.

"Apparently, your neighbor plays the sound system a little too loudly," Sarah said with an annoyed look on her face. She obviously didn't want anything to endanger her potential sale.

"Um, that's not a sound system," House commented, "that's someone playing live music." House's statement was confirmed when the music stopped in the middle of the piece and some muffled voices were heard. "It sounds like a rehearsal."

The music resumed. "Well, it's some sort of classical piece, so at least it shouldn't be too noisy," Sarah said, thinking she was putting the best face on the annoying racket that she could.

"Actually, it's Baroque. Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 5." House had closed his eyes and listened for a few moments. "They sound pretty good."

"Are there professional musicians living next door?" Cuddy asked. She was thinking how wonderful it would be for Rachael and the baby to be exposed to even more music than House played on his piano and guitars.

"I think the homeowner is a professor at Princeton," Sarah said, looking at her survey of the surrounding homes. "So this may just be a hobby that won't be too bothersome."

"Bothersome?" House asked incredulously. "We get a free concert every Sunday afternoon and you think we'll be bothered by that?"

"Oh, well, I guess that is a good thing," Sarah said, somewhat taken aback. This house had been on the market for a while for many reasons, one of which was the owners only allowed showings on Sunday when the people next door happened to be "rehearsing." Every other client thus far had heard this and refused to buy.

"Let's continue," Sarah pushed on.

They crossed the walkway and the larger patio, with Sarah pointing out the built-in grill and fire pit. They re-entered in the guest room.

It was a good-sized room with a view of the back yard and a large bathroom, again with granite countertops and a separate shower and tub. This shower was smaller than the one in the master suite, but it was still quite large.

"Think Wilson will be comfortable in here?" Cuddy asked House.

"Are your kidding?" House replied. "It's bigger than his entire apartment is now. If he decides to stay here, he may never leave!"

"You make that sound like it's a bad thing," Cuddy responded sarcastically.

House gave her a knowing smile. She had already figured out how much House missed Wilson and that getting him to come over more often and stay over at least once in a while would make him happy.

The next group of rooms were two bedrooms with doors opening on to a bathroom in between. "Here is your daughter's room, with the shared bathroom, and another guest room," Sarah pointed out unnecessarily. After Cuddy and House deemed the rooms to be acceptable, they went back into the vast family room.

"This is certainly big enough to accommodate your piano," Cuddy said to House.

"I could put it in the back corner next to the guest room and play all night every time Wilson stays over," House added gleefully.

"Oh, and here is the basement you requested," Sarah mentioned, giving House the evil eye.

"Can't really manage stairs too easily," House replied. "Cripple, you know."

"Oh, I'll go look," Cuddy said in exasperation.

The basement was unfinished but looked dry, and there was quite a bit of metal shelving that Sarah said the current owners were leaving behind, which Cuddy decided they could use for storage.

"Is it dungeon-like enough to meet ours needs, dearest?" House asked Cuddy after she and Sarah had ascended the stairs back to the first floor.

Cuddy shot House a deadly look but otherwise ignored his question.

"Let's take a look at the garage," The Lovely Sarah directed, trying to keep things moving and avoid any conflict. "It accommodates three cars."

"I have a place to put my bike!" House exclaimed excitedly.

"I was hoping you would get rid of that thing now," Cuddy paused, about to say something about House's impending fatherhood, then thinking The Lovely Sarah had no need to know about her condition, "before it falls apart," Cuddy corrected herself.

"It's got years of life left in it," House said, responding to the denigration of one of his most prized possessions. "Besides, you don't actually want it sitting it the driveway full time for the neighbors to see, do you?"

"True," Cuddy replied, happy that the argument had moved off into more comfortable territory. "We'll discuss the future contents of the garage later."

'It sounds like you have made up your mind," said Sarah in her best Always-Be-Closing voice.

Cuddy and House looked at each other. "We'd like to make an offer," Cuddy said.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

It took a while to get through all the paperwork, but at least they were sitting in Sarah's comfortable office.

They returned to Cuddy's house and Wilson arrived with Rachael shortly afterward. Over Chinese takeout, they told Rachael and Wilson about the house, and Rachael seemed to be okay when she found out that she wouldn't have to change schools.

"When do I get to see my new room?" Rachael asked.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We have to see if the people who are selling the house are going to accept what we offered to pay," Cuddy explained patiently to Rachael.

"How long has it been on the market?" Wilson asked.

"Several months," Cuddy replied, knowing that was more likely to make the sellers willing to take their offer.

"I hope they don't take the first offer," House mumbled through his moo shu. "Otherwise, Cuddy will spend the first five years in the house obsessing about how we might have gotten an even lower price."

"House!" Cuddy said, shooting him a glare and punching him in the arm.

"Oww," House exclaimed as he melodramatically rubbed the spot where she hit him.

House turned out to be right. The sellers turned down their first offer and came back with a lower price than they were initially asking. Cuddy and House came back with another offer, this one higher than what they had originally given, but still within their budget. They waited over a week until the sellers decided to accept their offer.

Cuddy was thrilled (and so was Sarah), and House was at least mildly pleased. Another month passed dealing with home inspectors, attorneys, mortgage brokers and banks, and finally they owned the house (well, they and the bank did).

In the meantime, Cuddy had been packing and trying to keep her house looking decent for potential homebuyers. It made for a frantic time. Cuddy had begun to delegate certain parts of her job, just so she could get everything done without killing herself. The good news was that she had no time to really worry about the baby, and she was able to breathe a sign of relief as she began her second trimester.

The weak economic climate actually turned out to be in their favor. Because Cuddy's house was small, it was something that more potential buyers could afford. It took less than two weeks to find a buyer who was willing to pay their asking price. Of course, this resulted in another round of inspectors, banks, attorneys, etc. Cuddy continued to clean and pack. Wilson helped her, and so did Taub's wife, who took items Cuddy wanted to donate to her temple for a program they had working with battered women's shelters.

As moving day approached, Cuddy became tremendously busy. She was so busy, in fact, that it took House to notice that Rachael was becoming increasingly withdrawn. House wasn't sure he wanted to deal with the situation, but since he didn't want to add yet another thing to Cuddy's already full plate, and because, quite frankly, he couldn't do much to help with the actual moving other than pack a few boxes, he decided to see if he could find out what was bothering Rachael.

The Saturday before the weekend they were moving, Cuddy was out with Chase renting the moving van and purchasing some last minute supplies. (House didn't know what other supplies they could possibly need at this point – he was pretty sure they had used enough bubble wrap to cushion their things against a magnitude nine earthquake.)

On his way from the kitchen to the living room, House passed by Rachael's room. He had thought she went with Cuddy to run errands. (Rachael almost never missed a chance to be around Chase -- she adored him. House refused to admit to himself that it made him a little jealous.)

"Why are you here?" House asked in a surprised voice, as he stood in the doorway of her room

"I live here," Rachael responded sullenly. "At least for the next week."

_Oh_, House thought. "Can I come in?"

Rachael nodded. Usually she looked directly at House; one of the things he liked about her was that she couldn't be easily intimidated. However, now she avoided looking at him.

"What's going on?" House asked, hoping the question was vague enough to elicit a response.

"We're moving, I guess . . . " Rachael said softly. She was looking down intently. Apparently there was something fascinating about the carpet in the corner of her room.

"And you're not okay with that?" House asked, trying to lead her toward whatever the problem was.

"No, um, yes, um, I don't know," Rachael stammered.

House knew that at this point, most adults would probably be launching into a speech about how much happier she would be after the move -- the new house would be better than the old house, the yard was bigger, her room was bigger, blah, blah, blah. The number of times House had heard that speech when he was a kid, hell, he'd had the chance to memorize it, for crying out loud. And he'd always hated it, so he decided he'd take a different tack with Rachael.

"What are you worried about?" he asked with this usual bluntness.

"What if there are no kids in the new neighborhood that will play with me?" Rachael asked.

"Dealing with your social life is more your Mom's thing," House admitted, "So, I'm sure she can figure something out. Since you'll be at the same school, maybe we can have some kids from your class over once in a while." House winced inwardly as he imagined his solitude being destroyed by a bunch of little girls running around and screaming.

"Okay," Rachael said, still staring at the floor.

Anything else bothering you?" House asked, knowing there was more.

"The new house is so big . . . " Rachael hesitated, "what if I have a nightmare? I won't even be able to find your room . . . "

House remembered what happened just before Rachael turned four. She went through a period when she wouldn't even consider going to sleep without a light on, and, most nights, she'd wind up in their bed, sleeping between House and Cuddy. On the one hand, House resented it because it put a bit of a cramp in their sex life, but, on the other hand, he also remembered that he didn't mind having that warm little body cuddling up next to him. God, he was going soft in his old age.

"Maybe we can leave some lights on in the kitchen, so you can find your way," House offered. "And?"

"Nothing," Rachael said, still refusing to look at House. This let him know there was more.

"Let me guess," House began. "You've never lived anywhere else, and you're just not sure it will ever be the same."

Rachael finally looked at House and nodded.

House had never lied to a kid before, and he wasn't about to start now. "It won't be the same. You have a lot of good memories here – with your mom, Uncle James, your friends . . . "

"And with you," Rachael interjected.

House gave her an eye roll and continued, " . . . and you don't want to give that up."

"How did you know?" Rachael asked.

"We were a military family," House explained, "so we moved all the time. I lived all over the country and all over the world."

"Did it feel bad like this every time you moved?" Rachael asked sympathetically.

"Yes," House said. "After a while I got used to it. Sort of." _No wonder I hate change so much_, House thought. _I sure as hell had it shoved down my throat enough times._

It began to dawn on House how much change Rachael was going to have to absorb over the next few months. A new house, and a new sibling that they hadn't told her about yet. And another change even Cuddy didn't know about, if she agreed to it.

"Will we be as happy at the new house as we are here?" Rachael asked, her eyes filling with tears. House pulled Rachael on to his lap, holding her as she cried.

_Wow, that's a tough one_. House thought. Most of the times that changes had occurred in his life, it hadn't exactly gone well. He became crippled after the infarction and lost Stacey, too. When he tried to get her back, well, that was another disaster. The only good outcome of the shooting was the ketamine treatment, and that failed, leading to soul-crushing disappointment and putting him in such a bad state of mind that he antagonized Tritter, which was another disaster. He almost lost Wilson then, and later he wound up losing all his employees. He had the least talented of the three forced back on him, and the selection process he used to replace the others resulted in his selecting one employee who committed suicide and another who was dying of Huntington's. One of the runner-ups started dating Wilson, and got killed trying to help him. He spent the next year really trying to change, only to have a broken then shaky relationship with Wilson, and even shakier relationship with Cuddy, nearly killing himself with methadone and insulin, injuring himself seeing a psychiatrist, missing his employee being suicidal, almost killing Chase, and going from hallucinations to delusions. He hit rock bottom before going to Mayfield. Since then, and with a lot of hard work and support from Cuddy and Wilson, things had turned around, but, after everything that had happened until recently, House had no confidence that whatever he had gained couldn't be taken away from him at any time. How did he explain all this to a child?

"There's no way to know if we'll be happy, baby girl," House murmured, using the term of endearment he said rarely, and only in front of Rachael and Cuddy. "We can only deal with what happens to us and try to hang on to each other."

House held Rachael in his arms until her tears stopped.

"You and Mommy will be with me, right?" Rachael asked.

"As long as we can," House answered.

"I think it will be okay then," Rachael concluded.

"You want to watch some TV?" House asked, emotionally drained from their little talk.

"Monster trucks?" Rachael asked excitedly.

"Sure," House said. He wasn't looking forward to the time next week when he had to disconnect the TV here and wait for the cable to be hooked up at the new house. It was going to be a long dry spell.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

"Hey, who's the cutie with the floppy brown hair and the bizarre hand gestures?"

Cuddy was pulled back from her thoughts about the primary color scheme for the nursery by her next-door neighbor. The people at the house on the right were elderly and not very friendly, especially after they met House. They had lucked out, at least, with the house on their left. Her name was Andrea Miles, but she said to call her Andie.

Andie was the professor at Princeton who was having the rehearsal when House and Cuddy first looked at the house. Cuddy made a mental note to ask her about that later.

Her daughter was four, and she and Rachael seemed to get along well. The two girls were being watched by Cameron, who also had her own two-year-old to keep track of.

Andie had insisted on helping with the move when she saw House limping and when House informed her that Cuddy was "knocked up." Chase and Foreman had agreed to help, and Hadley still had enough strength to help with settling things (like putting the flatware in the appropriate kitchen drawers), even if Foreman wouldn't let her do any lifting. Wilson was helping as well. Cuddy worried that he might be pretending to be macho to impress Andie. _All we need is for him to throw out his back again._

"I'm just so happy to see a quasi-normal family next door. The last people who owned the house were definitely Mafia. I'm Italian, so I know these things. That, plus the constant parade of brand new Lamborghinis and Ferraris in the driveway. I didn't want my daughter tripping over horses' heads when she was playing in the back yard," Andie explained in great detail.

"Quasi-normal?" Cuddy asked, raising her eyebrow.

"I've met your significant other, remember?" Andie reminded her.

"True," Cuddy admitted.

"You didn't answer my question," Andie said, insisting on bringing the conversation back to where it started.

"What?" Cuddy asked. She had become quite mentally fuzzy in her second trimester with all those hormones racing around her body. It made her horny as hell, too. House especially liked that part.

"The brown-eyed cutie, who is he?" Andie asked, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial manner.

"Oh, you mean Wilson?" Cuddy responded, surprised that someone would see him any other way than she did, namely, as a brother. "It's Dr. James Wilson, actually," Cuddy added, "He's the Head of Oncology at my hospital."

"Wow, I'm really traveling in rarified circles these days," Andie stated. "My next-door neighbors are a dean of medicine and a department head at a nationally recognized hospital, and their best friend is another department head. Lucky my ex isn't here; you be getting the big push to become clients."

"What does your ex do?" Cuddy asked.

"He's a financial planner," Andie replied.

"Well, doctors who work in hospitals rarely make the money that the specialists in private practice do, and even those doctors are getting squeezed these days," Cuddy observed.

"I'm sure you still make more than college professors do," Andie responded.

"What subject to you teach?" Cuddy asked, not wanting to dwell on this particular topic too long.

"American history," Andie replied. "The period from European contact through the British colonial period."

"Hey, can we have some help here?" House was pointing with his cane to Wilson, Foreman and Chase struggling with his piano.

"Okay," Andie said. She was very strong and muscular, especially her thighs, which she attributed to her favorite sport, skating.

Andie brushed past House and went to get a hold of the part of the piano that no one had claimed yet. "Nice instrument," she said, "Oh, and I like the piano, too."

Chase and Foreman rolled their eyes, and Wilson smiled, maybe a little too broadly. House coughed in embarrassment, and Cuddy laughed at House's obvious discomfort. This neighbor was definitely not going to be boring.

They carefully tipped the piano on its side on to a dolly they had in the moving van. They got the piano off the truck with the hydraulic lift on the back, and wheeled it onto a makeshift ramp they had put up over the front steps. It took all their combined strength to get it up the three steps, but once they were inside it was fairly easy to wheel it to its location in the rear of the family room. They carefully tipped it back on its feet.

House limped over to check his most prized possession. "It doesn't look like you idiots did any damage," House growled.

"You're very welcome," Andie replied with a smile, quicker on the draw than the other three. "What's next?"

Foreman wanted them to finish with the heavy stuff; he knew that Hadley would keep working the whole time he was there and he didn't want her to get too tired.

"Let's get the rest of the furniture," Foreman suggested.

It took about two hours to get the all of the furniture in the house. The place was bigger than Cuddy's old house, and even with the furniture from storage that had come from House's apartment, there was still a lot of empty space.

Foreman and Hadley left in the early afternoon. Chase stayed to finish unloading the boxes and putting them in the appropriate rooms. He, Wilson and House put together the beds, and Cuddy and Andie made them up.

Wilson went to drop off the moving van and pick up his car.

After Wilson returned, Cameron came by to pick up Chase and drop off the girls.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

"Hey, where is our neighbor, what's-her-name?" House asked after they sat down in the kitchen for a brief rest.

"Andie left when Cameron dropped off her daughter," Cuddy replied.

"I guess it's not surprising she bailed," House opined.

"House, you are not going to complain about her leaving," Wilson said with a flash of irritation. "She had no obligation to help you at all, and she risked a hernia moving your damn piano!"

"It's always nice to be appreciated," Andie announced as she entered the through the back door with her daughter, some bags and what looked liked an enormous pan wrapped in foil.

House sniffed the air. "I guess we can ignore the B&E if you're bringing food. Anything edible in there?"

"First, I didn't break into anything – the door was open," Andie replied. "Second, it's not just edible, it's delicious. I'm Italian -- knowing how to cook is in the genes."

"Let me help you with that," Wilson offered, taking some of the bags from her.

"What do you have?" House asked, not moving from his chair.

"Salad, garlic bread, lasagna, and tiramisu," she replied as she began taking things out of their respective bags putting them on the counter.

Cuddy got up to get plates and flatware.

"I brought over paper plates, cups and plastic knives and folks, so you won't have to do any dishes." Andie pointed to the bag that her daughter was carrying. Wilson took it from her, pulled out the items and set them on the counter. "I think that's everything," She said, surveying the countertop, now completely covered with food.

"Thanks for your help with putting everything out," Andie smiled at Wilson.

"Yeah, he's definitely good at putting out," House commented as he got up from his chair and moved toward the food.

Wilson was blushing, both because of the expression of appreciation and House's comment. He knew he would stammer if he tried to say anything, so he just smiled at Andie.

_God, he's just adorable_, Andie thought, her heart fluttering in her chest. It had been a long time since she noticed a man, let alone thought _that_ way about one. _Better be careful._

Everyone got up to get something to eat. Cuddy helped Rachael and Andie helped her daughter. The girls sat down together and starting giggling.

"Don't annoy the new neighbors, Catia," Andie warned.

"Catia – that's an unusual name," Cuddy noted.

"That's a nickname. Her full name is Catalina," Andie said.

"Still not very common," House mumbled through a mouthful of lasagna.

"Well that was the name her birth mother gave her," Andie explained, "And I never bothered to change it."

"Birth mother?" Cuddy asked.

"I'm adopted," Catalina said. "I'm from Guatemala."

Rachael's face lit up. "I'm adopted, too!"

"Are you from Guatemala?" Catalina asked.

"No. I'm from New Jersey," Rachael said earnestly.

Cuddy, Wilson and Andie attempted to hide their smiles as House munched loudly on the last of his salad.

"Well, now that we have that all straightened out, is it time for dessert?" House asked as he waved his hand over his empty plate.

"I'll get it," Wilson offered.

The dessert, like the rest of the meal, was delicious.

It was getting late, and everyone was getting tired.

"I'd really like to help you settle things tomorrow," Andie said, "But I have this sort of long-standing thing going on at my house."

"Which Brandenburg concerto is it going to be? Or something by Vivaldi, maybe?" House asked.

"We don't usually decide until everyone gets here," Andie replied. "How did you know?"

"The first time the realtor showed us the house was a Sunday afternoon," Cuddy responded. "Who's playing?"

"Colleagues," Andie replied. "Mostly mathematics professors, actually, with a couple of members of the music department faculty."

"How does a historian wind up in that group?" Wilson asked.

"My undergraduate degree is in music," Andie answered. "My first Masters was an MBA, which is where I met my ex. After we split up, I decided I wanted to get my Masters and PhD in history, and Princeton has one of the best American history programs in the country, so . . . "

"What instrument do you play?" Rachael asked.

The viola da gamba," Andie answered.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It's what's called an ancient instrument. It's a precursor to the cello."

"What's a 'precursor'?" Rachael asked again.

"Something that came before," Cuddy answered.

"So this instrument is an ancestor of the cello," Andie added.

"Why don't you just play the cello?" Rachael asked.

"Well, I always wanted to, but when I was younger and I started music lessons, my hands weren't big enough. The viola da gamba is smaller than the cello, so I decided to play that instead," Andie replied.

"Fascinating," House said, sounding anything but fascinated. "But, it's getting late . . . "

"Yeah, I'll just get all this stuff and we'll be out of here," Andie said.

"Let me help with that," Wilson offered. He, Andie, and Cuddy put the leftovers into the refrigerator, and threw away the used disposable products. All that was left was the empty lasagna pan.

"Can I carry that back home for you?" Wilson asked.

"Well," Andie responded, "it's not very heavy without the actual food in it, and it's only next door." She saw the dejected look on Wilson's face. "Sure, why not?" she said.

House was about to make a comment about Wilson getting some when Cuddy shot him a warning glance.

Wilson, Andie and Catia left. Cuddy informed Rachael that it was time for her to go to bed. Apparently, Cameron had taken the kids to the park for most of the day, and Rachael was tired enough not to put up too much of a fight.

After Cuddy got Rachael in bed, she found House staring at the mostly empty family room. "So, are they delivering the sectional couch and the wide screen TV on Monday?" House asked.

"Yes," Cuddy responded as she rolled her eyes. "God, men are so easy. Give them food, sex, a couch and a TV and they are completely satisfied."

"And yet, some idiots are still fighting wars as we speak," House commented.

"I'd debate the efficacy of air lifting wide screen TVs to most of northern Africa as a way to ensure Middle East peace if I weren't so tired," Cuddy responded.

They went to their new bedroom. "God, look at all these boxes," Cuddy sighed wearily as she surveyed the room. "I'll never get them all unpacked."

"I'm not the one with the designer wardrobe that would put Paris Hilton to shame and a shoe collection that Imelda Marcos would envy," House said.

"I'm not old enough to remember who Imelda Marcos was," Cuddy snarked.

"And yet, here you are sleeping with a senior citizen who does," House snarked in response.

House and Cuddy got undressed and got in bed. Despite their fatigue, Cuddy was still pretty horny from the pregnancy hormones. They also wanted to celebrate their first night in the new house. So, they decided on a quickie.

After they finished, they heard a car starting close by. "Is that Wilson leaving?" Cuddy asked.

"Hope he got some, too," House mumbled as he and Cuddy drifted off to sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

Cuddy spent most of Sunday unpacking, with a little help from House and a lot of help from Wilson.

At one point, House and Wilson were unpacking things in the master bedroom. Wilson was opening the boxes very gingerly, peering in to each one warily.

House noticed the way Wilson was behaving. "What's up with that?" he asked. "You afraid of coming across our pet tarantula? Or our sex toy collection?"

"TMI," Wilson said. "Actually, I was hoping to avoid the box with Cuddy's unmentionables."

"Funny, I was looking for that one," House said. "You know, for an adult heterosexual male, you are such a wuss about stuff like that."

"Not fair!" Wilson exclaimed. "She's my boss. Forgive me if I don't want to be thinking about whether she's wearing the red or the black bra and panties during my evaluation."

"That's the only thing that gets me through my evaluations," House retorted. "That, and checking out the funbags. Hey, did you know that now that she's knocked up, they're getting bigger?"

"Please tell me that's just from visual observation, and that I'm not going to find a pair of calipers in one of these boxes . . . " Wilson asked hesitantly.

House didn't respond, but gave Wilson a wicked smile.

"Oh my God!" Wilson exclaimed, "And Cuddy went along with this?'

"Sure," House said. "She agreed in her sleep, which, conveniently enough, is when I take the measurements."

"And what are you doing with this 'data'?" Wilson asked. "If there are spreadsheets and graphs involved . . . "

"Every good scientist needs to analyze his data," House proclaimed innocently.

As he had in so many other conversations with House over the years, Wilson put up his hands in surrender. "Let's just get some of this stuff unpacked, okay?"

As they continued to pick through the boxes, they heard instruments being tuned, followed by music being played next door.

"That sounds fantastic," Wilson said approvingly. "She's just amazing, isn't she?"

"Why, Wilson, I had no idea you were such a fan of things baroque," House teased. "I'm not going to have to intervene to keep you from trying to marry her by the end of the week, am I?"

"I think you're so old, you've started to forget things," Wilson said. "I haven't been married since Julie and I split up eight years ago, and I haven't been in a serious relationship since, well, you know . . . "

Even after all this time, there was still some lingering pain for both men at the mention of Amber, so they let it slide. "At least I hope you got something last night," House said, bringing the conversation back to the present as quickly as he could.

Wilson said nothing, but he did get a rather large grin on his face.

"Way to go, dawg!" House exclaimed.

The unpacking continued through the day.

Although Andie couldn't help, she was there at dinnertime with some more food.

"You didn't have to do this," Cuddy told her after she thanked her.

"Well, you know how ugly musicians get when you don't feed them," she explained, "So, I just made a little extra for you."

The way Andie was eyeing Wilson, Cuddy was pretty sure there was more to it than just being neighborly.

After they finished the meal, Andie helped clean up and she left with her daughter and Wilson.

"What's going on with the two of them?" Cuddy asked after Rachael was in bed.

"From what I understand, Wilson got lucky last night," House said with a salacious grin. "Let's hope the trend continues."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short, but it's my first featuring a House/Wilson interaction, so please let me know if it worked.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

"House," Cuddy began, hoping that she could change the subject away from Wilson's sex life, "I'm ready to tell Rachael about the baby. Do you want to be there when I do?"

"I don't know," House answered honestly. "Whatever you think will work best for you and Rachael." House didn't think Rachael would react in a particularly negative way, at least at first. She would probably be excited until she really started to think about the impact of the new baby on the family. Heck, House hadn't really processed that yet himself.

"I'd like you to be there," Cuddy responded. "Since you're her . . . " Cuddy paused. She was about to say 'father,' which really wasn't true. Still, House was way more to Rachael than just her mom's boyfriend.

"When you're not the traditional husband, wife, 2.3 kids and a dog, this stuff starts to get complicated, doesn't it?" House stated more than asked. He had been trying to talk to Cuddy about something for a while now, but the house-buying and moving had made everything so busy that he felt he hadn't had the chance. "I need to ask you something."

"Okay," Cuddy said hesitantly.

"Would it make things easier. . . do you want . . . should we . . . damn, I suck at this stuff . . . Cuddy, I want us . . . . let's get . . . you know," House mumbled.

"House?" Cuddy questioned. Was that a proposal she had just heard? It was so disjointed, she couldn't tell. She also knew House well enough by now to know that if she asked him to clarify what he said or even to repeat it, he would most likely deny he had ever said anything.

The other thing she knew was that if she asked him if she could think about whatever it was, he would back away, and most likely be hurt by her uncertainty. However, if he wasn't asking what she thought he was, she was risking making an idiot of herself. She hesitated until she thought about the number of times over the past few months and even years House had done things outside his comfort zone. _Oh, what the hell!_

"Yes, I want to marry you." Cuddy declared, consequences be damned. "When?"

House's face looked liked the strangest combination of joy and fear she had ever seen.

"Um, before the kid is born, I think," House said. "Do you care if you look fat in your wedding pictures?"

Cuddy laughed and relaxed for the first time since he started the conversation. "I haven't gained that much weight yet, House," she said in her defense. "If you're asking if I care that I look obviously pregnant in the pictures, the answer is no."

"Really," House responded. He had always considered Cuddy to be a little vain. Okay, a lot vain, so he wanted to know what she was thinking here. "Why?'

"You of all people know how long it took and how hard I tried to get pregnant," Cuddy stated as a smile lit up her face. "That makes it an achievement, not an embarrassment. Besides, when you are having a child with the love of your life, you can't help but be proud of it."

House smiled in spite of himself. Again, here was this beautiful, sexy woman willing to publicly declare her love for him, and practically announce to everyone she knew that she was happy to have his child. Even with all the uncertainty, he wasn't sure it got any better than this, at least for him.

"How soon can we do this?" House asked.

"Actually, I'd like to wait for a couple of months," Cuddy said.

"Why?" House asked, with those feelings of insecurity starting to wash over him again.

"Vanity," Cuddy confessed. "If we don't wait until it's, um, obvious, you're right, I could just look fat in the pictures. More importantly, I want everyone who is there and everyone who knows about it to be perfectly clear that I'm pregnant and marrying the father of my child."

Given the abuse in his background, and the way he had internalized it, House hadn't had all that many opportunities to feel genuinely proud of himself (even the amazing things he did as a doctor were reduced by pretty much everyone except Cuddy to a need to solve puzzles). Damn if this didn't do something for him.

"Okay," House said. "What with the new house and the baby coming, can we keep this simple?" House got ready to duck; he was convinced Cuddy would hit him with a frying pan, if there was one unpacked.

"No problem," Cuddy said.

He was a little surprised by her quick agreement. "You're sure about that?"

"First, a big wedding can take a year or more to plan, and since I'm not an elephant, the baby will be born long before that." Cuddy replied. "Second, I really don't have the time. Third, I'm forty-five years old, and I'd feel a little silly doing some of the 'traditional' stuff they do at big, elaborate weddings."

"True," House agreed. "Most of your friends are either married, divorced a couple of times or dead, so throwing the bouquet seems kind of pointless."

"Thanks," Cuddy said sarcastically. "I'd like a simple ceremony with a judge or justice of the peace, and a small reception for our friends and family."

"Well, if you're talking about my friends and family, the guest list will be two people, so that should be small enough." House stated flatly. An unpleasant thought suddenly occurred to House. "Oh, man, I have to tell my mom about the baby, the new house and the wedding, don't I?"

"Somehow I knew you hadn't told her anything yet," Cuddy said.

"Well, I thought we agreed that we wouldn't tell anyone before the end of the first trimester, which just happened. I didn't tell her about the new house because she'd ask why we were moving, and, since I can't lie to her, I would have been forced to tell her we needed more space because of the baby." House explained. "Hey, why don't I just send her one of those change of address cards you get at the post office and write her a short note at the bottom: 'Moved because Cuddy's pregnant, wedding in two months.' Kill a few birds with one stone . . . "

"Forget about killing the birds, you'd probably kill _her_ from the shock," Cuddy replied. "You're going to have to call her."

"Damn," House muttered. "Oh well, it could be worse. I could be you and have to call _your_ mother."

"Yeah, that'll be about as much fun as a migraine," Cuddy agreed. "Maybe we should just elope and send them a birth announcement when the baby is born."

"Works for me," House said. "Although Wilson is such a girl, it would hurt his feelings if he couldn't be my best man. Oh, God, there's another conversation I'm dreading."

"At least he already knows about the house and the baby," Cuddy added helpfully.

"So, when are we going to tell the kid?" House asked, bringing their discussion back to its starting point.

"My schedule is actually fairly light tomorrow, and you'll be home waiting for the cable guy and the couch and TV to be delivered, so how about tomorrow afternoon?" Cuddy suggested.

"Okay," House responded.

"You can warm up by calling your mom tomorrow morning," Cuddy said with a smirk.

"So much for enjoying my day off," House muttered. "If I didn't already have insomnia, thinking about that would certainly do it."

"Let me see if I can think of some activity that might help you fall asleep," Cuddy said with a knowing smile.

They headed to the bedroom to celebrate their engagement.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Dont' Own, etc.**

House was up early, showered and dressed in anticipation of the day's activities.

"I wish you would be this eager to get to work," Cuddy commented as she came back in the house after putting Rachael on her new school bus. "I'll see you this afternoon," she said, giving him a rather deep kiss on the lips. "Don't forget to call your mother," She reminded him.

"Ugh," House said, hoping that he'd be too busy to get the chance.

The TV was delivered and installed by 10:00 and the couch was set up by 11:30. The cable guy was due between 1:00 and 3:00, so House had some time to kill, with no TV or internet. He recognized it was time for The Dreaded Phone Call.

He dialed the number, hoping to get her answering machine. No such luck – she was home.

"It's wonderful to hear from you, dear," Blythe replied to his greeting. "It's been so long, I hardly recognized your voice."

_Jesus, starting with the guilt trip already_, House thought. _Once I tell her what's going on, she'll want to guilt me so far, it'll be past the solar system. Might as well get this over with._

"Listen, Mom," House began. "I have some news . . . "

His hesitation frightened Blythe. "Is everything okay, dear?" she asked, unable to mask the concern in her voice.

"Everything is fine, Mom," House attempted to reassure her. "I just wanted to tell you that Cuddy is pregnant and she's due in about four and a half months. Also, we needed more space because of the new baby coming, so we moved. Oh, and Cuddy and I are getting married, probably in a couple of months, but definitely before the baby is born. Well, that's about it. Talk to you soon," House tried to end the call as quickly as possible.

"Gregory House, don't you dare hang up that phone," Blythe said in her most authoritative mother's voice. She couldn't see it, but it still had the power to make House flinch, and, even more importantly, to get him to comply.

Of course, she had a million questions, which House dutifully answered as best he could. Yes, Lisa was fine, no, they didn't know the sex of the baby yet, the house was a few blocks away from Lisa's old house, they just moved in this last weekend, yes, it had a guest room (House rolled his eyes answering that), no, he didn't have many details about the wedding, other than it was going to be simple and small with a judge or justice of the peace presiding, no, they wouldn't have a minister because Cuddy's Jewish and he's an atheist, yes, you'll _probably_ be invited to the wedding, yes, you're right, that's not very funny.

After about a forty-five minute phone call, House heard the doorbell. "Listen, I think the cable guy is here, and I have to let him in."

"You'll call me with news about the baby and details about the wedding?" Blythe asked, although it was more of a command than a request.

"Yes, Mom," House responded in a resigned voice. "I'll talk to you later."

"I love you, Greg," Blythe said softly.

"I love you, too, Mom," House replied. "Bye."

He hung up the phone and let the cable guy in. It took about an hour for the cable and internet to be hooked up and activated. House decided to reward himself with a little TV for getting through the conversation without totally alienating his mom. One down, two to go.

Cuddy arrived home about a half hour before Rachael did. She was decidedly not in a good mood.

"You talked to your mom about things, I take it?" House ventured a guess why Cuddy was not exactly happy at the moment.

"Remind me never to call her on my cell when I'm driving," Cuddy said, taking a deep breath to compose herself. "I got so furious I was yelling and I almost had an accident."

"So, she didn't exactly take it well, then?' House responded, pushing the thought of Cuddy having an accident out of his mind.

"Wasn't I _old_ enough to know I should use birth control and not get pregnant before I got married? Didn't I care how this would look to the family and their friends? How could I possibly afford such a big house? Don't come crawling to her and Dad for help when we got in over our heads financially. Why did I decide to have a child with and marry such a terrible person? Why couldn't I marry a rich Jewish husband like Lena had? Didn't I know that getting married when I was obviously pregnant made me look like a tramp?" Cuddy became more upset as she repeated each part of the conversation.

"Well, as long as she's happy for you," House said in his most sarcastic voice. "Take it easy; it's not like we expected her to be thrilled by any of this."

"It's just so hypocritical. For years, all she could do is criticize me for not being married and not having a family. Now that I'm doing both, she can't find even one positive thing to say," Cuddy fumed.

"Well, you must know why," House said. "You decided to have a career that she didn't want you to have. You adopted Rachael as a single mom. You didn't get married when she wanted, to whom she wanted, or had a child when she wanted. You've decided to live your life on your terms, not hers, and she can't accept that."

"I know," Cuddy responded with a resigned sigh as she began to calm down. "How did it go with your mom?'

"Well, after I told her and she asked about a billion questions, she seemed okay," House said. "I just have to let her know what's going on more often, I think."

"At least she didn't spend the entire phone call telling you what a horrible human being you are," Cuddy said.

"No, that was John's job," House replied. "At least I've been spared his comments about all this."

"Wow, with parents like ours, it's a wonder we're not even more screwed up than we are," Cuddy observed. "I guess the good news is that we probably can't mess our kids up any worse."

"How long have you known me?" House asked, although there was no bite in the way he said it.

Cuddy shot House a sympathetic glance. "I have to go wait for Rachael at the school bus stop," Cuddy said, looking at her watch.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

In a few minutes, Rachael and Cuddy came in through the front door.

House resisted the urge to ask Rachael about her day. It would be uncharacteristic of him to make small talk, and she was smart enough to pick up on that and wonder what was going on. After she had her snack, Cuddy brought her into the family room, and they all sat on the new couch.

"Rachael," Cuddy began, "We have a couple of things we'd like to tell you." Cuddy tried her best to sound nonchalant. It didn't work.

"What is it?" Rachael asked fearfully. One of her friends at school had been brought in for a "big talk" with her parents and found out they were getting divorced. "Are you leaving us?" Rachael turned toward House with her lower lip quivering.

"No," House responded immediately. "Your mom and I are getting married."

Rachael breathed a huge sign of relief, and hugged House tightly around his waist. She loved House very much and didn't want him to leave. Ever. She looked up and saw that her Mom and House still seemed like they had something to say, she began to be afraid again. "What . . . ?"

"Honey," Cuddy said in her softest voice, "We're going to have a baby in a few months."

"Is it a baby brother or a baby sister?" Rachael asked, her mood changing from fear to excitement almost instantaneously.

"We don't know yet," Cuddy answered honestly. "We think we'll find out in the next couple of weeks."

"I'd love a baby sister," Rachael said. "I could get her all dressed up. A baby brother would be great, too. I could throw a ball and he could bring it back to me."

"It's a kid, not a puppy," House interjected.

Cuddy shot him a warning glance. "Well, we're happy that you're excited about the baby," Cuddy said, trying to make sure she emphasized the positive with Rachael.

"Yeah, this was a really good talk," Rachael agreed. "Can I go play now?"

"Sure," Cuddy said. After Rachael went to her room, Cuddy said, "Well, that was easy."

"Speaking of easy conversations, are you going to call your sister and tell her about everything?" House asked.

"No need," Cuddy replied. "I'm sure the minute I got off the phone with my mom, she called Lena and filled her in. It's been about an hour, so they've probably just finished with bad-mouthing me. Give it about fifteen minutes and Lena will call to 'help' by telling me everything I'm doing wrong."

"That's why caller id and voicemail were invented," House offered, trying to spare her any more agitation.

"Well, I can either pace myself with the aggravation and call her later, or I can get it all over with now," Cuddy observed, not thrilled with either prospect.

"I still have to tell Wilson about the wedding and ask him to be my best man," House stated. "That's just going to be full of all those nasty, positive emotions. God, you don't think he's going to cry, do you?"

"He might," Cuddy smiled at the look of horror on House's face. "You'll get through it, somehow."

Like clockwork, fifteen minutes later, Cuddy's cell rang. She looked at the caller id. "It's Lena."

"That's amazing. Can I come to you for stock picks?" House asked.

"Hilarious," Cuddy replied. "Well, I might as well get this over with."

"Hello, Lena," Cuddy said. "Yes, I'm fine . . . About four and a half months . . . We'll find out when we do the amnio in two weeks . . . No, it wasn't a 'mistake,' or even an accident. It started as a birthday present, as a matter of fact . . . no, the new house isn't 'beyond our means;' we're both doctors, and contrary to what you've been told, we do make more money than the clerks at the 7-11 . . . no, I'm not going to ask House to get married by a rabbi . . . yes, a civil ceremony results in a real marriage . . . I'm sorry you feel that way, but I love him with all my heart, and I have for twenty-five years . . . I think it's hypocritical to tell me you don't approve and then offer to help me plan the wedding . . . no, that is not the sisterly thing to do . . . yes, I'll let you know what's going on . . . talk to you soon, bye."

"Nice to hear another loving voice from your family," House snarked.

"I'm just glad it's over with," Cuddy said.

"Until the wedding," House replied. "I can hardly wait to hear their supportive comments them."

"You know, I'm seriously considering not inviting them," Cuddy said thoughtfully. "Life is too short to surround yourself with negative people."

"Then why are you marrying me?" House asked with a smirk.

"Maybe because your negativity has a purpose other than to make yourself feel better by making other people feel like crap," Cuddy offered.

"That's just a side benefit," House stated with another evil grin.

Cuddy was thinking about starting dinner in her beautiful new kitchen when she realized she hadn't gone shopping yet and had almost no food other than some canned goods they had moved.

They were about to order take-out when Andie rang the doorbell with Catia. "The first day back to work after you move is always busy," Andie explained, bringing yet more food.

"Are you going to join us?" Cuddy asked.

"No," Andie answered. "I'm sure you want a break from us right about now."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with Wilson not being here tonight, would it?" Cuddy asked with a knowing smile.

"He needs a break from us, too," Andie answered, with both a smile and sadness in the tone of her voice. Wilson had left on Saturday night, but he had come over again on Sunday night and hadn't left until early Monday morning. They both agreed that they didn't want things to move too quickly and that it would be better if they didn't see each other or call until the next weekend. So, why was she so lonely? For the first time since she and Catia moved in, her house seemed empty somehow. _Enough_, she thought. "I'll see you soon."

Cuddy watched Andie and her daughter go down the driveway and walk back to their house. She came in with the food and put it on the kitchen counter. She sensed that Andie was missing Wilson, and she became lost in thought, remembering when she and Rachael would come back from Mayfield. A feeling of pain washed over her, until she felt strong arms slide around her waist.

"Is everything okay?" House asked, sensing her melancholy.

"Better than it's ever been," Cuddy replied, turning towards him and finding his mouth with hers. They kissed until they ran out of oxygen, and then they rested their foreheads together. "I love you so much."

House didn't say anything, but he kissed her all over her face, at least fifteen times. "What food did she bring?"

Cuddy should have been annoyed at this question during an intimate, emotional moment. In fact, a few years ago, she would have been. Now, after everything they'd been through, it was more about enjoying and appreciating House than anything else. "I don't know. Let's see."

It turned out to be chicken parmesan, with a salad and bread. "What, no dessert?" House asked.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "We haven't had to cook or order takeout since we moved in because of the generosity of our neighbor. I hardly think she should be criticized for not remembering dessert. Besides, we still have tiramisu left over from Saturday."

"I thought I finished that," House said.

"Not the part I put in the freezer," Cuddy replied smugly.

"Wow, it's not like you to hold out on me, Cuddy," House said.

"Unlike Wilson, I try to learn from your past behavior," Cuddy replied.

"Wilson is definitely too easy," House agreed.

"Speaking of Wilson, remember to tell him about the wedding tomorrow. I think he would be hurt if he heard about it from anyone else," Cuddy stated.

"Might as well get it over with," House sighed.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

After dinner, Cuddy got Rachael ready for bed. House was in the family room, enjoying his new TV. Rachael came out to kiss him goodnight.

"What's with that?" House asked, at first attempting to disentangle himself from Rachael's arms.

"I'm just happy you're not leaving," Rachael said, giving him one more squeeze.

"Not for a long time, if I can help it," House said, returning Rachael's hug and kissing her on the forehead.

After Rachael was in bed, Cuddy came out to the family room. "Care to join me?" she asked House.

"So much for the plasma TV. Gotta go service the pregnant woman and her raging hormones," House muttered.

"Is it really that awful?" Cuddy asked. "You've TiVoed WWF, and there's nothing else to watch on Monday night."

"True," House admitted. His pace quickened when Cuddy flashed him a glimpse of what she was wearing under her robe.

Once they entered the bedroom and locked the door, Cuddy removed her robe completely. She was wearing a black lace bra, a garter belt, fish net stockings and high heels. House was particularly excited by the way the garter belt dipped just below her baby bump.

"What brought this on?" House asked.

"I just wanted to make sure I captured your interest tonight," Cuddy said.

House grunted with approval. He made his way toward Cuddy and began kissing her, each kiss becoming deeper than the last.

Cuddy maneuvered House so that she could push them both down on to the bed. She pulled off his t-shirt and unbuttoned his jeans. She had both the jeans and his boxers off in about a minute. She began to caress his naked body. House noticed a sense of intensity from her he hadn't felt in a while.

He undid her too-tight bra and saw her breasts literally pop out. He threw the undergarment to the floor and his hands began to caress her nipples. They became hard and incredibly large under his touch. His mouth found its way to each of them and he gently licked them while Cuddy almost cried out from the pleasure of what he was doing.

Her hands found their way down to his hips and stroked him. He would never admit it to anyone, but that was one of his favorite places to be touched. He didn't exactly know why, but the way Cuddy touched him there made him feel incredible.

She kissed his face, neck and chest and moved down his abdomen. Cuddy ran her tongue along the line where the elastic band of his boxers would have been. House both grunted his approval and displayed it, or, rather, Little Greg did. Cuddy stroked House's cock very gently at first, then she began to increase the pressure and speed. House began to thrust into her hands. At this point, she climbed on top of him and eased his cock into her. He began to thrust and she matched his rhythm with her hips, fully engulfing him.

As always, House's cock was hitting just the right spot inside Cuddy. Even in her haze of lust, she wondered how he did that every time. It finally dawned on her that as skilled a lover as House was, it had just as much to do with anatomy. Their bodies simply fit together.

Cuddy didn't have time to dwell upon this revelation as her orgasm overtook her. She called out House's name as her entire body seemed to convulse around him. House's orgasm, as intense as he had felt it in a while, shook his entire body as well.

After they came back to their senses, and Cuddy shed her remaining garments, they found themselves lying on their sides facing each other. "Why this, tonight?" House asked. "It's not celebrating the new house or the upcoming wedding, since we did that the last two nights."

"Well, I could still be celebrating," Cuddy replied, but she knew that wasn't really the reason. "Andie looked so lonely tonight when she dropped off the food. She told me she and Wilson were trying to take things slowly and they weren't going to see or talk to each other until next weekend. I guess it reminded me of the times I would visit you at Mayfield and have to leave knowing I wouldn't see you for a week. I just wanted to be with you, that's all . . . "

House looked into Cuddy's eyes and then leaned in to kiss her. He pulled her into his arms and held her as close to him as he possibly could. "It killed me every time you left," House admitted. "When it got really bad, just remembering how much I wanted to be with you kept me going. That, and wanting to screw your brains out because I was so horny."

"Another tender moment from Dr. Gregory House," Cuddy proclaimed with a smile. "Are you going to get up and watch TV now?"

"Nah, I'm sure the only thing that's on is that infomercial about the chamois thingie that absorbs liquids," House responded. "Even a plasma TV can't make that interesting."

Cuddy knew that House really just wanted to stay right where he was, with her.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

The next morning, House woke up and made his way to the kitchen. He had seriously overslept. Cuddy was gone and Rachael was already on the bus for school. Cuddy had left him some coffee and he found a single donut in a box on the counter. He sat there eating his donut and drinking his coffee, expecting to revel in the quiet and solitude. He felt a brief flash of his old life. He had never wanted to admit how lonely he was, even to himself. He lost his appetite for the donut and tossed the rest of it into the trash. He gulped down what was left of the coffee and headed for the shower. The thing he had been dreading, telling Wilson he was going to get married, somehow didn't seem so bad any more.

He arrived at his office to find that they didn't have a case. Taub and Hadley were working off some clinic hours, and Foreman was doing paperwork in his office at the other end of the conference room. (Cuddy gave him an office when House was at Mayfield because she couldn't bear to see him in House's office, and Foremen kept it as a deputy department head after House's return. House was pretty sure the only way they'd get him out of there now was feet first.) House dropped off his backpack and headed toward Wilson's office via the balcony.

Usually, Wilson saw patients in the morning, but, he appeared to have a break in his schedule. He was working on patient files as House hoisted himself over the partition and abruptly opened the door.

"I need to ask you something," House said, not waiting for Wilson to react to his sudden entrance.

"Good morning," Wilson replied, insisting on the social niceties in spite of being a friend of House.

"Cuddy and I are getting married, probably in the next two months or so. Do you want to be best man?" House asked, wasting no time in getting to the point.

A smile spread across Wilson's face. House noticed that Wilson's eyes didn't smile, in fact, they were tinged with a little sadness. "Sure," Wilson replied.

"That's it?" House asked, surprised not only by his friend's willingness to do what he asked, but also his total lack of wanting to know any details.

"I'm sure you'll tell me when and where it is before the big day," Wilson responded. He looked down and continued with his paperwork.

House left Wilson's office through the door to the hallway. Uncharacteristically when it came to Wilson, House was completely surprised. He had expected some huge emotional reaction from Wilson (either crying or mocking or both), and Wilson had said and done nothing, accept to agree. _Something is up with him,_ House thought, and, since he didn't have a case, he decided to spend his time finding out what it was.

As he did with his differentials, he began by attempting to figure out what had changed. Well, a lot recently. He and Cuddy were together. House had become very close to Rachael. House moved in with Cuddy and then he bought a house with her. Cuddy was pregnant with his child. And now they were getting married. House didn't think Wilson thought any of those things were bad, so why was he acting so un-Wilson-like? Of course, this couldn't be like a real differential because it wasn't about objective facts, it was about feelings, never an area that House felt competent about. He decided to obtain a consult.

House took the elevator down to the emergency room. "Hey, Blondie, got a few minutes?"

"I've got my lunch break in about ten, if you can wait," Cameron responded.

House started reading through the charts of the patients, looking for something exotic to amuse himself. Cameron snatched the files away from House and pointed to a chair in the corner for him to sit in. _Just as well, they were all completely boring_ House thought.

After Cameron finished, they headed to the cafeteria. They got in line, made their selections, and as they approached the cashier, Cameron said, "I don't suppose that because you asked me to join you that you're going to pay."

"With global warming, it'll be a very long time before it's cold enough for hell to freeze over," House responded with a smirk. "Um, she's paying," he said to the cashier as he went as quickly as he could toward a table.

Cameron rolled her eyes and paid up. "What's up?" she asked as she sat down across from House.

"I need a differential," House replied. "Middle-aged man, usually very emotional, best friend doing everything he ever pushed him to do, and, yet, he is barely supportive and appears almost completely emotionally detached."

"Wilson isn't doing enough handstands that you and Cuddy are expecting a child and buying a house?" Cameron asked.

"I asked him to be best man at the wedding, and he was barely able to work up enough energy to smile," House stated. "He didn't even say 'Congratulations.' "

"Well, I would, but you probably wouldn't care, so I'll tell Cuddy later," Cameron noted, knowing her former boss well enough that he was too focused on the puzzle of Wilson's behavior to take note of anything she said about his pending nuptials. "Even you must have noticed that you have experienced a lot of growth and change lately, and Wilson's life hasn't really changed all that much since he lost Amber. He's still living in her old apartment, isn't he?"

"Yes." House replied. "I thought he was staying there because he liked it."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "Even you can't be THAT clueless. He's there because he's become used to it, nothing more. You've moved on with your life in a big way, and his life is still frozen back at the time just after Amber's death."

"Well, he seems to like our new next-door neighbor," House said, still working the puzzle in his mind.

"Really?" Cameron asked. "Have they started seeing each other?"

"Well he's a three-time loser and from what Andie's said, she's been divorced at least once. So, I think they're trying to take it slow." House stated. "Cuddy mentioned something about that, too."

"What exactly did she say?" Cameron asked, trying to get down the right path, if she could.

"Well, I was studying Cuddy's cleavage at the time, so I'm not sure I can remember exactly . . . ," House paused for effect as Cameron heaved an exasperated sigh. "Nothing specific, other than Andie was lonely, and Cuddy thought it was from missing Wilson."

"Well, if they're both fearful and have imposed these limits on their relationship that neither of them is happy with, then Wilson could be lonely and very frustrated." Cameron observed.

"So, you're saying I should encourage both of them to get in the sack with each other as much as possible?" House ventured.

"Hell, no!" Cameron replied, a little too forcefully. "For any of this to have a chance to work out for Wilson, you'll have to let it just develop. Anyone trying to manipulate the situation could make it fall apart very easily," Cameron said, hoping House would not even get close. _Ther_e _is so much damage he could do here, and not a lot to make it work._ Cameron thought.

"So, I just have to wait it out and hope for the best?" House said. "Does that really sound like me?"

"This is your best friend's happiness that is potentially at stake here," Cameron replied. "The least you can do is not be a manipulative ass."

"Yeah, because I'm so good at NOT doing that," House retorted.

"Well," Cameron hesitated before suggesting anything, knowing that House was perfectly capable of screwing up even the simplest things when it came to emotions and relationships. "You could get them together and see what happens . . . "

"Andie's brought us dinner for three nights, so I suppose we could invite her over for take-out to thank her and make sure Wilson is there, too." House said.

"You should have Cuddy set it up with Andie; you don't want her getting the wrong impression that you actually thank people when they help you," Cameron snarked.

"I'm pretty sure I could get Wilson to come over if I told him Cuddy was paying for the take out. I could probably even get him to bring beer . . . "House speculated.

"Well, as long as your beverage needs are met, I'm sure it will all work out," Cameron said in her most sarcastic voice.

"You wouldn't want Wilson to be suspicious that it was a setup, which he would be if I didn't ask him to spend money on something," House retorted.

"True," Cameron agreed reluctantly. "Well, my work here is done, and so is my lunch break. I'd better be getting back."

"Decent work on the differential, Blondie," House said. "Admit that you miss it."

"As I said before, everything but the 'you' part," Cameron announced over her shoulder as she walked away with a smile.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: I thought I would post this a little early today, since I'll be away starting tomorrow and I haven't finished packing yet, so I don't know if I'll be too busy later. Being away may also delay future updates, especially if I'm not near an internet connection. Thanks for your patience.

Hmm, no reviews for the last chapter. Is that because my readers are Huddy fans and don't particularly like Cameron? I hope no one thought there was anything Hameron about the last chapter. No offense to any Hameron shippers out there, but I've just never found that relationship believable. The idea was that House was faced with an emotional puzzle, and he decided to do a DDX with the most "emotional" of his present and past fellows.

Anyway, this chapter is pure fluff, so I hope you enjoy it.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

House couldn't believe it, but Cuddy wasn't against the little plan he and Cameron had worked out. The only thing she thought they should change was instead of getting takeout, they should actually use their new kitchen. She knew Wilson enjoyed cooking, and she thought he couldn't do much of it in an apartment kitchen. She suggested they invite Wilson over to assist them (well, Cuddy) in making a meal. House agreed, since he thought it would appeal to Wilson's compulsive need to help, plus House still wouldn't have to do any food preparation himself.

They decided on Wednesday night, and both Wilson and Andie agreed.

Since House still didn't have a case, he had some time Wednesday afternoon and was charged with buying the food they would cook. Of course, Wilson realized that House wasn't exactly an expert shopper, unless they wanted to demonstrate how well House and Cuddy's new microwave could heat the contents of a can of soup, so he accompanied House to the supermarket.

"So, what are Uber-Chef and his lovely assistant making for my pleasure this evening?" House asked imperiously.

"We thought we'd do something a little different and make a veal dish with an exotic mushroom risotto and some unusual kinds of vegetables," Wilson replied.

"How unusual?" House asked apprehensively.

"Yes, they do have fiddle-head ferns!" Wilson exclaimed as he saw them on display in the produce aisle.

"What? You're feeding me _ferns_?" House asked with near total incredulity.

"These are amazing steamed with a little butter, salt and pepper," Wilson said enthusiastically. "Does Cuddy have a vegetable steamer?"

"How the hell would I know?" House grumbled, now seriously concerned that he would get only rabbit food for dinner. "The only gadgets I know about are in the top drawer of her nightstand."

"Never mind," Wilson responded, fervently hoping to avoid any discussion of Cuddy's vibrator or other adult sundries.

"Here are the mushrooms," Wilson said, more to himself than House.

"I know they are grown in manure, but I'm still not going to eat any mushrooms that have the word 'shit' in their name." House petulantly declared.

"Um, that's 'shitake.' They are originally from Japan, and they are considered a delicacy." Wilson replied.

"What are the ones called that look like tiny white dicks bunched together?" House asked.

"Could you please lower your voice?" Wilson asked. "They're enoki, and I think they're originally from Japan, also."

"Well, I'm not sure we should be buying produce from a country that eats uncooked protein on a regular basis," House opined.

"It says on the label that these are cultivated in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, so unless you have some problem with Amish basements, I wouldn't worry about it," Wilson replied.

"Actually, I've had this recurring fantasy about Amish women and metal washtubs ever since the movie 'Witness,'" House interjected, smiling off into the distance.

"Can we get back to food shopping?" Wilson asked in a pleading tone.

"Killjoy," House replied.

"I'd love to get some chanterelles, but I don't think they have any," Wilson said with mild disappointment.

"That's a shame. I do like the French," House responded as he flicked his tongue in a wildly exaggerated way.

"God, no visuals, please," Wilson begged. "Let's get some criminis. They have a nice, beefy flavor."

"Cuddy's a vegetarian, but she can be convinced to go for the beef," House commented. "Did I ever tell you about the time we had some leftover gravy, and . . . "

"Just. Stop. Please. Just. Stop." Wilson implored. "It's definitely time to leave the produce aisle."

They headed for the aisle with the pasta and rice.

"I just love this store," Wilson stated. "They sell short grain brown rice. That's perfect for risotto."

"I hate brown rice," House muttered.

"First of all, it's healthy," Wilson stated. "Second, it has a wonderful, nutty flavor."

House noticed a woman passing down the aisle with two young children, catching the very end of their conversation. "Can you believe how insensitive he is?" House asked. "I used to be a resident in Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital, and he has the nerve to use the word 'nutty' in front of me."

The woman looked at both House and Wilson and hurried away without saying a word.

"House," Wilson growled in frustration, "I shop regularly in this store and I'd like not to alienate every one of my fellow customers in one trip, if you don't mind."

"Hey, it's not my fault she has no sense of humor," House replied.

Next it was on to the frozen food section. Wilson quickly found what he wanted and put it in the cart. "What, no comments?" he asked House.

"Nothing, other than 'gelato' must be Italian for over-priced ice cream knock-off that people with more money than brains are idiots for buying," House snarked.

"I didn't know Italian was one of your languages," Wilson retorted. "I'll tell Cuddy you want to honeymoon in Venice. Do you think any of the gondolas are handicapped accessible?"

"Ouch!" House said in a mock-hurt tone. "That was just mean."

The last stop was to pick out the meat. Wilson was already dreading it. "Let's just get the veal and go check out," Wilson said, mostly to himself, since he knew there was no rushing House if he didn't want to be rushed.

Wilson found the veal, examined the packages of scaloppini and placed the ones he wanted in the cart as quickly as he could.

"$17.99 a pound?!? We're getting fleeced!" House's baritone boomed through the entire meat department.

Wilson wanted to sink into the floor at this point; instead, he practically ran to the front of the store and found the cashier with the shortest line.

House was forced to limp after him at top speed. "Can you believe he'd make a cripple move that fast?" House asked someone else in the line as he finally caught up with Wilson. "It's a good thing he's great in bed, or I don't think I'd stay with him."

Wilson's blush was close to crimson. He knew anything he said would sound like a lame denial, so he just ran the credit card through the machine and signed on the screen after their order was complete. He grabbed the handle of the cart containing their groceries and turned back to House. "Thanks for putting this on your card this time, sweetie," Wilson batted his eyes and handed House's credit card to him. Wilson was finally successful in getting House to shut up.

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A/N: This scenario of House and Wilson food shopping together has been a fantasy of mine for a while (at least since "Wilson's Heart" and House assuming Amber drank cosmopolitans because he knew Wilson bought cranberry juice). As a heterosexual woman, I don't think I could do justice to a Hilson relationship (at least the "M" rated parts), so I never thought I would have the opportunity to write this. Please let me know what you think.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: Sorry this update took so long, but I was away for the weekend. I think this chapter is a little longer, so I hope that makes up for it.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., except for OCs**

House and Wilson arrived at the house at about 5:30. Cuddy and Wilson began to get dinner ready, while House helped himself to a beer, and, like the expert host he was, put one out on the countertop for Wilson.

At 6:15, the doorbell rang, House was about to get up when he heard Rachael leave her room and run for the door, followed by the squealing of two young girls. Catia and Rachael went to Rachael's room as Andie walked most of the way across the family room without noticing Wilson was there. Wilson was so engrossed in what he was doing he didn't even look up. When they both realized the other's presence, they barely acknowledged it.

"Umm, Hi," Wilson said awkwardly.

"Hi," Andie answered almost shyly. "Thanks for inviting me over for dinner," Andie said, grateful to be able to turn her attention to Cuddy and House.

"It's not like we didn't owe you," House acknowledged bluntly. "Wilson, why don't you tell our guest what we're having tonight for dinner?"

Wilson felt like a hormonal teenager as a blush spread across his face. Luckily, Cuddy stepped in.

"It's veal with fiddle head ferns, mushroom risotto and gelato for desert." Cuddy said.

"If you don't want to eat the plant life, I'll understand," House grimaced, still unable to imagine himself consuming ferns. "I prefer traditional vegetables over new age gimmicks."

"Actually, ferns are one of the earliest forms of plant life to evolve on earth, so they are hardly 'new age,' " Andie countered.

"So, you're a botanist as well as a musician and historian?" House asked with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

"When your kid is interested in ancient things like dinosaurs, it leads to an interest in evolution, and the earth's origins," Andie replied. "You can't help learning something reading all those books to them."

"I didn't know Catia liked dinosaurs," Cuddy said, trying to keep the conversation moving along.

"She's more into princesses," Andie replied. "Jake was my dinosaur kid."

"You have a son, too?" Cuddy asked, surprized that Andie had never mentioned him.

"Had," Andie corrected.

"Is he with your ex?" Cuddy asked.

"The only time my ex even thinks about him is when he is praying for his soul in church," Andie said with sarcasm. "He died six years ago."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," Cuddy replied.

"Cancer isn't anyone's fault. At least that's what I've concluded, after wasting years trying to find someone to blame," Andie admitted.

A painful silence filled the space around them. House kept waiting for Wilson to jump in and offer some platitudes. It was not only Wilson's medical specialty, but also what he did every day – consoling bereft parents who lost their children to cancer. He was more than surprised that Wilson remained silent, kept his head down and continued to work on the food.

"Wow, talk about an elephant turd in the middle of the room," Andie stated. "Sorry about bringing that up. Dead children are always a major conversation killer."

"It happened to you," Cuddy said, not sure she could be consoling in any way, or if Andie even wanted it.

"It happened to _him_," Andie corrected. "I just got to be the impotent bystander."

"His death happened to you," Cuddy countered. She put a tentative arm around Andie. "It's not in the natural order of things for children to die before their parents."

"That's a recent thing," Andie said, disagreeing. "For most of human history, at least before basic nutrition was widely available and the invention of immunizations, parents regularly outlived their children. Sometimes I think that's why I became a historian – to find out how parents used to cope with the deaths of so many of their children."

"Did you find out anything that helped you?" Cuddy asked.

"Just that parents didn't get too emotionally invested in their children until the children were older – past infancy and maybe even past the children being toddlers. No help there — I already loved my son when he died." Andie said ruefully.

"Wow, I thought my life sucked," House said, tired of waiting for Wilson to provide some consolation and offering his own unique brand.

"Hey, that's what's great about life – we can all have own tailor-made pain," Andie replied. "Is dinner ready yet?"

"Yes," Wilson said, finally joining the conversation. "Should we eat at the dinette table or in the dining room?"

House was puzzled why Wilson was behaving in such a detached manner, especially since showing sympathy was much more likely to get him laid, or so House thought. Wilson was just full of surprises recently. And yet, he had been his annoying self with House at the supermarket and his super-annoying helping self when he and Cuddy were making dinner. So, the wild card had to be Andie, House reasoned.

Cuddy and Andie decided to use the dinette table, and she and Wilson were setting it. Cuddy called the girls and they ran to the table.

"Rachael, how about getting your drink, and a drink for your guest?" Cuddy asked in an admonishing tone.

"Is apple juice okay?" Rachael asked Catia.

"Sounds good," Catia replied.

After Rachael got their drinks, the girls picked their spots at the table and waited.

Wilson and Cuddy brought in the food, and House and Cuddy situated themselves such that Wilson and Andie were forced to sit next to each other.

"How's the baby?" Andie asked Cuddy.

"We have an amnio next week, so we'll see," Cuddy replied. "We think we'll find out the sex of the baby then."

"I know some people don't want to know until it's born, but that seems sort of artificial to me. Of course, as doctors, you'll both know what you're looking at anyway." Andie stated. "Let me ask you something. Will you abort if the baby has Down's?"

"We haven't discussed it," Cuddy replied. If nothing else, Andie was direct.

"It's Cuddy's body, so it's ultimately her choice," House replied. "But, if I were to have any say in it, I would want to keep the baby."

Both Wilson and Cuddy were surprised by what House had said. "Seriously?" Wilson asked. "Why?"

"Well," House said, "intelligence is overrated. Sometimes, all it does is make you miserable. It doesn't make you better than the average idiot, it just makes you think you are. It makes you think that you should have answers to Important Questions that mere mortals don't possess. And, of course, you don't. When it's the only thing you think you have, you'll go to great lengths to preserve it, at the expense of your own health and even sanity."

"Wow," Andie said, suppressing the desire to ask a million questions. "I never thought you could find a doctor in the twenty-first century that was pro-lobotomy."

"House always has a unique take on things," Wilson explained. It was the first time during the evening he had said a complete sentence to Andie. "He used to be completely pro-intellect and anti-emotion, but I think that changed in the past few years."

"Is that where the 'sanity' thing comes in?" Andie asked. "I remember when my son died. I thought if just shut down, nothing would hurt. Turns out that if you shut down pain, you shut down pleasure, too. I almost starved myself to death. And my marriage, well, let's just say my ex sought solace elsewhere."

"Did he leave you for another guy?" House asked as raised a forkful of veal to his mouth.

"House!" Cuddy and Wilson exclaimed in unison.

"What?" House asked defensively. "I was just curious."

"No, it wasn't quite _that_ Jerry Springer," Andie chuckled softly. "He joined one of those churches with all the born-again Christians, and tried to get me to go, too. With my being an atheist, it was a tough sell, to say the least. Well, he continued to go and pray for my condemned-to-hell soul, sanctimonious ass that he is. He met a woman, got her pregnant, and left me to marry her. They both still belong to that same church. Apparently, adultery among Christians is not as big a deal as the Ten Commandments would have you believe."

"Hey, I think that would at least make a 'B' list Jerry Springer show," House commented. "Especially if they brought you and the new wife on and you got into a catfight, provided she's not a total dog."

"House, there are not enough words to describe how inappropriate what you just said was," Wilson replied.

"It's okay," Andie said. "It is pretty dramatic – the death of a child, anorexia, religion, adultery, illegitimate pregnancy, divorce. Wow, maybe I should sell my house and go live in a double-wide."

"I'm amazed you can joke about all that pain," Wilson said.

"Actually, it wasn't all bad. Because of my ex's religiosity, he felt terribly guilty about what he did, so I got a very nice divorce settlement. It paid for my education and my house. He's also still paying alimony, much to Cindy's annoyance," Andie stated with obvious pleasure.

"Cindy's the one he got knocked up and married, I take it?" House asked.

"House, language please!" Cuddy admonished. Luckily, the girls had finished eating and were in the family room watching a DVD on the plasma TV.

"Yep, the very same," Andie replied with a small laugh. "She's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but otherwise she's okay."

"You don't hate her guts for what she did?" House asked.

"Well, let's just say she wasn't my favorite person when it happened," Andie admitted. "I just decided at some point I was wasting a lot of energy on both of them if I continued to dislike them. In a way, she probably did me a favor by getting me out of a loveless marriage, but don't tell her that."

"Do you put a positive spin on every bad thing that happens to you?" House asked. "That's kind of sickening."

"Well, I've yet to find anything positive about my son's death, so, hopefully that makes me less annoying to you," Andie replied sarcastically.

There was a very awkward pause. "Sorry," Andie said. "I just don't like people thinking that I'm some sort of Pollyanna. I've been through enough in my life to have earned my cynicism."

"Personally, I find cynicism to be an admirable quality," House said. It was as close to an apology as Andie would get, and she seemed okay with that.

Dinner had been over for a while, so Wilson, Cuddy and Andie got up to put the leftovers away and clean up.

"Well, I've got an early day tomorrow, so I'd better be leaving. I've had an interesting evening. See you tomorrow," Wilson said to House and Cuddy. "It was nice to see you again," Wilson said to Andie, giving her a quick, chaste peck on the cheek.

Wilson said goodnight to the girls and left. Andie left with Catia and Cuddy got Rachael ready for bed.

House and Cuddy decided to get ready for bed themselves.

"Wilson was right, that was an interesting evening," Cuddy said. "Andie certainly was very forthright about things. And I thought Wilson liked her, but he barely spoke to her. Do you think she scared him away with everything she told us?"

"Wilson Classic would be attracted to all that drama, not scared away," House replied. "There's something going on with him or with them."

"And you're going to find out at work tomorrow, aren't you?" Cuddy asked. House's only response was a sly grin. "Just don't break anything at the hospital or do something to make Wilson quit, okay?"

After House dealt with Cuddy's pregnancy hormones (and thoroughly enjoyed himself as well), they fell asleep.

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A/N: I'm not sure if I'm going in the right direction with Andie, but I'm trying to make her at least a little like House, so it's believable the Wilson could have a relationship with her that might work (however dysfunctionally). Please let me know what you think.


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: I was a little taken aback by one of the reviews for the previous chapter. It is never my intention to offend anyone. Having said that, I recognize that it may happen, simply because the characters I am writing about are not gentle or kind at times. In fact, what makes them interesting to me is that they are flawed, and they say and do the wrong things, just like real human beings do. I would have liked to discuss the line that I crossed that upset the particular reviewer. Unfortunately, I was not given the chance, nor was I given the chance to remove or revise whatever this reader found so offensive. So, I would like to make a request of my remaining readers. If you find something offensive, please let me know what it is. I am more than willing to consider re-writing something that is upsetting. And, as always, thank you for your interest in my stories.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

House got to work on time the next morning. He had finally caught a case. He wanted it to be interesting, and he wanted to solve it, of course, but he also hoped at least some of the symptoms at some point in the diagnosis would look like cancer, just so he could get Wilson involved and find out what was going on with him.

As luck would have it, something did show up on an MRI of the patient's lung by early afternoon that was maybe, possibly, okay it was a stretch, a tumor, or more likely a lesion, or, even more likely, a random spot. He burst into Wilson's office for a consult.

"It could be a lesion," Wilson said, although he hardly sounded convinced. "Why don't you have your team biopsy it and get back to me?"

"They're off doing that as we speak," House told him.

"Then why are you here?" Wilson asked with annoyance.

"I'm bored," House said in what he hoped was a convincing tone of voice. (He thought about sighing to enhance the effect, but he didn't want to lay it on too thickly.)

"So, how is Cuddy doing planning the wedding?" Wilson didn't think this would interest House at all, which was why he said it, trying to get rid of him.

"We've already discussed the guest list a little," House replied, knowing that even though this particular topic bored him to tears, Wilson might find it interesting and not throw him out of his office just yet. "On my list, there's you, my mom, Chase and Cameron, Foreteen, and Tiny Taub and his mini-wife, if they're still together by the time the wedding happens."

"Are they having problems?" Wilson asked, hoping for some juicy gossip.

"No more so than usual," House replied. "You just never know if and when Taub might find fidelity inconvenient."

"Oh." Wilson said, sounding bored and looking like he was about to return to his paperwork.

"Cuddy mentioned she might not invite her mother and her sister," House stated. He wasn't sure if that was something Cuddy wanted him to share with Wilson, but he was getting desperate to get Wilson's attention and he was pretty sure this would do it.

"Really?" Wilson asked, sounding at least a little intrigued. "Why not?"

"Well, they gave her such a hard time when she told them about the baby and the wedding. She thinks that they would be even more negative at the actual event," House said. He was trying his damndest to figure out a way to get the conversation around to Andie and Wilson's relationship, but he wasn't sure how he would do it.

"Well, family can certainly be tough," Wilson replied.

"Cuddy's mom and her sister drive her crazy because of all the passive aggression," House commented. "If everyone were as open as Andie was last night at dinner, life would be simple." If House had had any spirituality whatsoever, he would have been praying for Wilson to take the bait.

"Yeah, you would favor the direct approach." Wilson snorted. "She is pretty remarkable in a lot of ways." A faint smile appeared and just as quickly disappeared from his face.

"She's certainly not boring," House admitted tentatively. He knew if he said anything stronger than that, Wilson could very easily clam up. "She's pretty easy on the eyes, too."

"House, you are marrying and having a child with someone you've waited to be with for twenty-five years. You should not be checking out another woman!" Wilson exclaimed a little too forcefully.

House knew then he had struck a nerve, but he still had to be careful how he proceeded. "I'm not checking her out, Wilson," House said. "It's just that as a heterosexual male, I tend to notice hot women. Besides, it's not like you've taken a 'hands-off' approach." House hoped that snarky comment was enough to provoke Wilson to say something.

"I know," Wilson admitted, hanging his head. "She's amazing. Or at least I think she is. I don't want rush into it the way I did . . . "

"Oh my God," House exclaimed, "You think this has the potential to be something, maybe _the_ thing, and given your history, you're afraid you're going to screw it up! That's why you're acting so strangely."

"You're damn right!" Wilson exclaimed. "Everyone else, for better or worse, is paired off, even you. I'm lonely, and, maybe, a little jealous, too. I want what you have, House!"

"And that's why you didn't say anything last night when she told us about her son that died from cancer. It matters too much to you to give her your sympathetic-lost-a-child-to-cancer shtick." House replied.

"It's not a shtick, House" Wilson asserted. "It's just that I can't treat her like she's one of my patient's family members. You're right, she already means too much to me for that. And, I can't be selfless, compassionate and understanding like I was with my ex-wives, or I'll screw it up the way I did with them. I just don't know what to do . . . "

"Here's a novel idea," House said, starting to be annoyed by the paralysis Wilson was creating for himself. "Try being James Wilson. Caring, sometimes snarky, still not boring James Wilson."

"What if that's not enough?" Wilson asked, almost dejected.

"Well, it's been enough for me for, what, fifteen years, and I'm a demanding bastard," House stated truthfully. "Women ask for a lot less and give a lot more than I'd ever be willing to."

"But she deserves more than just accepting something," Wilson said.

"Here's another novel idea," House said. "If she doesn't accept you for who you really are, maybe she doesn't deserve you!"

"Is that one of the life lessons they taught you at Mayfield?" Wilson asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Hey, I'm the champion deflector around here," House replied. "Deal with your own feelings of inadequacy, Jimmy, and stop trying to fix me. I'm better, remember?"

House's pager went off. "Gotta deal with sick people," he said, pushing himself up off the couch. House didn't know if anything that he said would sink in, but at least he knew why Wilson was acting the way he was. It gave him some satisfaction knowing he had solved the puzzle. He didn't want to admit to himself that now that his life was better, just solving the puzzle wasn't nearly enough, especially when it came to the people he loved.


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support. I have such wonderful readers!

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

House's case was resolved by that evening and he headed home. Cuddy was already at the house. She had cooked dinner on her own for the first time in their new kitchen. The scent of chicken and vegetables filled House's nose as he came through the door. All House could think was that it smelled like home.

_That's why Wilson is jealous_, House thought. _He doesn't want to come home to an empty apartment. Heck, it isn't even empty. It's filled with memories of his dead girlfriend._ House didn't want to think about Amber; he was still afraid that dwelling on her memory might bring him back to the lowest point in his life, when he was hallucinating her.

He shook it off and went back towards the kitchen. Cuddy was in sweats and one of House's old t-shirts. It was getting somewhat tight over her growing belly. If House didn't think Rachael might see them, he would have taken Cuddy right there on the countertop, she was so incredibly sexy. As it was, he slid his arms around her and partook of her lips, face and neck. He slid the t-shirt down and voraciously attacked her milky shoulders.

"House," Cuddy said in a ragged voice. "Rachael isn't in bed yet. We need to put this on hold."

"Don't want to," House mumbled as he continued to enjoy her.

"No choice," Cuddy responded, trying to keep a minimum of her wits about her.

"Okay," House eased up. "But you owe me."

"I know," Cuddy said with a smile, betraying how much she wanted to pay her debt.

"How is Wilson?" Cuddy asked, hoping to bring up a subject that would cool House's ardor.

"Buzzkill," House complained. "Wilson's lonely, he thinks that he has the potential to have something really good with Andie, and he's shitting in his pants trying not to screw it up."

"I really don't need the visual of one of my employees being in love and incontinent," Cuddy replied.

"Why is he so insecure?" House asked, almost rhetorically. "He's better than okay-looking, he has a respectable and fairly well-paying job, and he doesn't drool on himself. By all rights, he ought to know he could be beating women off with a stick."

"Well, there was this man I knew once," Cuddy began. "He was tall, and had a body that any heterosexual woman, gay man or bisexual would lust over. His eyes were the most devastating color of blue, and he had a voice that could turn you into a puddle of desire. His mind was brilliant and complex, and his soul was hidden but had the most beautiful combination of light and dark that any human being has probably ever possessed. And yet, he actually believed that he wasn't worthy of being loved. Unbelievable, but true."

House looked down. He never knew what to say when Cuddy was praising him, let alone when he heard the amazing things she had just said. "So, Wilson and I are both idiots?"

"That's about the size of it," Cuddy responded in frustration, yet with a smile.

"When I was at Mayfield, or even before, there wasn't really anything you could say or do to convince me that I wasn't the scum of the earth, was there?" House asked.

"No," Cuddy replied as honestly as she could. "Even now, after all that therapy, I still sometimes think that your image of yourself is a frightened little boy, aching for your father's approval and never getting it."

"If that's true, it's hideously pathetic," House said.

"No, it's not," Cuddy responded. "Most of us spend most of out lives seeking approval from our parents, whether they are around or not, or even whether they are alive or not. Heck, I'm forty-five years old, and I still haven't been able to decide not to invite my bitch of a mother to my wedding, knowing perfectly well that unless there really are unicorns, she will do her damndest to make me and my fiancé miserable."

"You're a smart and decisive woman, Cuddy. If you're sure she'll ruin the wedding, why not just make the final decision and leave her off the guest list?" House asked, trying to sound like The Impartial Voice of Reason.

It didn't work. "Since you would be a major beneficiary of your own suggestion, House, you don't really qualify as Mr. Rational Detachment," Cuddy observed.

"Weddings are a pain for me, regardless of who's there and who isn't," House stated.

"Even if you're marrying me?" Cuddy asked with a slight note of hurt in her voice.

"I want to be married to you, Cuddy," House said, doing damage control. "It's the ceremony and reception with all those public declarations of feelings that get to me. And it's not like either of us will have a lot of fun dancing."

Cuddy smiled at the image of House limping and her waddling around the dance floor. "The music for our first dance will have to be pretty slow," she admitted.

"Do you think there are any musical compositions with no beat at all?" House wondered.

"Wow, how did we get all the way from Wilson to wedding planning?" Cuddy asked, hoping House wouldn't notice she still didn't know what to do about her mom. No such luck.

"You still haven't made a decision about inviting your mother." House reminded her. "Listen, it's really up to you. I can deal with your family without killing them for a few hours, if I really try, although I'm not making any promises about necessary verbal assaults. Besides, if your family gets you all riled up, you'll be especially hot for our wedding night."

"Well, as long as my torment will service your libido, then I guess it's okay," Cuddy replied sarcastically. "You know what? To hell with it! It's my day and I'm going to enjoy it. My mom and my sister and her family are not invited."

"They'll never forgive you," House said, wanting to make sure she considered all the implications of her decision.

"And what would be the fallout from that?" Cuddy questioned, continuing to gather steam. "If they didn't speak to me that would be an improvement!"

_Maybe Cuddy won't be riled up for our wedding night, but I might get a little something exciting tonight_, House thought as he watched her forcefully make her case. He was pretty sure that if they had the good fortune to have Cuddy's mom and sister not speak to her, it wouldn't last for very long. Cuddy was just too tempting a target for the old witch and her evil spawn.

"What are we going to do about Wilson and Andie?" Cuddy asked, considering the other matter closed.

"Did all those years you spent trying to convince me of my self worth have any results?" House asked. Cuddy shook her head. "I had to realize for myself that at least part of the time, I'm not just a piece of shit, and Wilson will have to do the same. Hopefully, it won't take a total mental breakdown for him the way it did for me."

"You always have done things in a spectacularly over-the-top way," Cuddy commented.

"Hey, I'm hungry, can I have some dinner?" House asked with his most forlorn voice and his best puppy-dog eyes.

Cuddy brought him some food and got Rachael ready for bed. After goodnight hugs and kisses were exchanged by Rachael and House, Cuddy put Rachael in bed and read her a story.

House had put his dishes and utensils in the dishwasher and was watching TV.

Cuddy came in to the family room. "What about my debt?" Cuddy asked, pushing the t-shirt down around her shoulders.

House didn't have to be asked twice. He limped quickly after her toward the bedroom.

* * *

A/N: I know that some people were waiting for some Wilson and Andie (Milson? Wiles?) development, but I wanted to show a little bit of House and Cuddy at home. There will be more Wiles in the next chapter.


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., Except OCs**

Wilson was finishing up some paperwork on Friday afternoon when his cell rang. He was pretty close to being caught up and he was annoyed enough by the interruption not to check the caller id. "What is it?" he snapped into the phone as he flipped it up.

"Nice to talk to you, too," Andie said, with a trace of humor in her voice.

"Oh, sorry," Wilson mumbled. "Um, hi."

"Hi," Andie replied. "I know this is short notice, but I am inviting Lisa, Greg and Rachael over for dinner tomorrow night, and I wondered if you wanted to join us."

Wilson hesitated. Apparently, Andie was not upset about his being detached at Wednesday's dinner. He happened to look down to his lap and notice that Little James was already responding to her voice. After last weekend, and now this, he had no doubt that he was attracted to her. Very attracted to her. His hormones won out over the thinking part of his brain. "Sure," he said in a voice that was a little husky with lust.

"Are you okay?" Andie asked. "Your voice sounds a little congested."

"Just allergies," Wilson replied quickly as he cleared his throat. "What time and what do you want me to bring?"

"Listen, if you don't have the time or this is too much of an imposition I'll understand, but since I know what a good cook you are, I was hoping that you could come over in the afternoon and we could work on the meal together."

"That sounds like fun," Wilson said. Wilson's brain knew this was a date, but the way they were doing it made it feel wonderfully un-date-like. _She's hot and smart_, Wilson thought. "What time?"

"Well, I told Lisa dinner would be around six and that they could come over for drinks at five, so how about two? Is that too early?" Andie asked.

"No, that's fine," Wilson said. He knew the phone call was winding down, but he didn't want to hang up just yet. "Does Catia like to cook?"

"Oh, yes," Andie chuckled. "We'll be getting all kinds of help, believe me."

"Sounds great," he said, actually meaning it for the first time in a long while.

"See you then," Andie replied. "Bye."

"Bye," Wilson said as they hung up. He felt himself getting excited about tomorrow. _Better take it easy_, he thought to himself. _It's just dinner_. Funny, his emotions told him something else entirely.

Even though Andie hadn't asked for Wilson to bring anything, he really didn't want to go empty handed. He thought about chocolates and red roses, but he didn't want it to look like an I'm Sorry Gift. He settled on some wildflowers (he could always say they were for the table if Andie questioned it), and a bottle of really good wine. He had spent most of Saturday morning doing his shopping, so the day hadn't dragged the way he thought it might. He showed up at Andie's door a little before two.

"These are great," Andie said after Wilson came in and gave her the flowers. "I haven't really liked roses since my son died. Too much like the funeral parlor, if you know what I mean. Oh, and this is a wonderful wine. It will go perfectly with the meal."

"The guy at the wine shop helped me pick it out after I told him the menu," Wilson admitted. He didn't need Andie to think he was some kind of wine expert when he wasn't even close. He was trying to be himself. If you had told him five years ago that he would be following relationship advice from Gregory House, he'd have said you were as crazy as House was at the time. But, if things could get this much better for House, there was hope for him, too, wasn't there?

"What do you think we should do first?" Andie asked, bringing him back. "How about chopping the vegetables for the salad and making the croutons?"

"Wow, you make your own croutons?" Wilson asked, clearly impressed.

"I just can't eat those little hard cubes that come in the boxes," Andie replied. "They're tasteless, except for being too salty, and I'm always afraid I'm going to break a tooth."

Andie reached for two cutting boards and brought the bread and a serrated knife over to Wilson. She got the vegetables out of the refrigerator and got herself a chef's knife. Wilson was impressed by her well-equipped and well-organized kitchen.

"I take it cooking is one of your passions," Wilson stated.

"Yes, it is, along with history, music, ice skating, and my daughter, of course," Andie responded.

"Where is Catia?" Wilson asked.

"She's having a play date with Rachael." Andie responded. "For some reason, when Lisa was asking me over the fence in the backyard last night if the girls could get together this afternoon, Greg had this positively evil grin on his face. Did you tell him you were coming over early, perhaps?"

"Yes," Wilson said, hanging his head. "He wanted me to come over this afternoon to watch something he had on TiVo, so I sort of had to tell him why I couldn't. Sorry."

"No problem," Andie replied. "I love cooking with Catia, but she's five years old, and sometimes it's as much work making sure she doesn't hurt herself while she's 'helping' as it is cooking the meal."

"You're a great mom," Wilson said. "Catia is really lucky to have you and to have you be willing to go through everything you did to get her."

"It was mostly just paperwork and traveling," Andie stated. "And I'm the lucky one. She saved my life."

"How is that?" Wilson asked, not sure how a child that young could perform any lifesaving feats.

"Well, remember the other night when I said that after my son died, I shut down and was starving myself? I wasn't being metaphorical," Andie replied. "I was literally not eating and starving myself. One of my friends dragged me to a doctor, who scared the crap out of me by reminding me that I was the only one Catia had in the world and that I better start taking care of myself. If she hadn't needed me, I don't know what would have happened."

"You have such a fantastic body, that's almost hard to believe," Wilson commented. After he said it, he realized how many ways that could be the wrong thing to say.

"Thanks," Andie blushed. "It took a lot of work to get myself back into 'fighting' shape, as it were."

"Your other passions are interesting, too." Wilson said, trying to change the subject. "It seems like your life is pretty well-rounded and complete."

"Well, it would be nice to work a relationship in there somewhere," Andie responded without much thought. Now it was Andie's turn to feel uncomfortable about what she said. "How are you doing cutting the bread?"

"Pretty much finished," he replied, trying to move as quickly he could from the 'r' word. "What's next?"

"I'm done with the salad, so let's get the onions and garlic for the sauce chopped and start sautéing. I don't mind the garlic, but I my eyes always water when I chop the onions, would you mind doing those for me?" Andie asked.

"No problem," Wilson said. "For some reason, onions don't bother me. Must be all that time I spent in my bubbie's kitchen."

"Was your grandmother the one who taught you to cook?" Andie asked, letting him know that he didn't have to explain who his "bubbie" was.

"Yes," Wilson replied. "Her kitchen was always so warm and welcoming. It felt like home to me. I guess I've been searching for that feeling since she died and they sold her house."

"How old were you when she died?" Andie asked.

"Seventeen," Wilson answered. "I went to college the next year, and who knows how often I would have gotten back to see her, but, still, I really missed her."

"My grandmother raised me, so I missed her a lot after she died," Andie stated.

"How old were you?" Wilson asked.

"Nineteen," Andie replied. "I was in college, so I just never went back again after the funeral."

"What about your parents?" Wilson asked. "Are they dead, too?" It was a pretty personal question, but Wilson didn't think Andie would mind, simply because she had been so open about everything else.

"My dad died when I was very young," Andie said. "And my mom and I just never got along."

"Why not?" Wilson asked.

"Well, it's a long story. The condensed version is that my father and older brother were out driving to get something I needed and they were killed in a car accident. My mom blamed me."

"What?" Wilson exclaimed with total incredulity. "That's crazy!"

"Yeah, well, my mom never was the poster child for sanity, even before the accident," Andie said. "I think she loved my brother and was not too thrilled when I came along, so she was unhappy that I was the one who didn't die. She used to tell me that, actually."

"Wow," Wilson said. "I can't imagine how much psychotherapy and drugs you'd need to get over that."

"Actually, not that much," Andie replied. "I knew my grandmother loved me, and that was enough. It had to be."

"Do you see your mom now?" Wilson questioned gently.

"We haven't spoken in six years," Andie said flatly.

"That was around the time that your son died," Wilson said, trying to put things together. "I'm guessing that you and she were in contact somehow, and it didn't go well."

"She called me a couple of days after the funeral. Stupidly, as it turned out, I hoped she would be able to provide some comfort. After all, we both knew what it felt like to lose a son." Andie explained. "She told me that she knew what agony I was going through . . . and that I deserved it, because I was such a terrible person."

"Dear God," Wilson said, almost unable to process the horrible pain that someone could attempt to inflict upon not only another person, but a mother upon her child. "How did you deal with . . . what happened . . . "

"At the time, well, I just couldn't understand it. Later, I actually came to see it as a positive thing," Andie replied.

"What? How?" Wilson sputtered.

"Well, up until that point, I guess at least some part of me, probably the childish part, thought that someday my mother would love me," Andie said, her eyes finally filling up. "After that conversation, I knew that would never happen. I recognized how truly messed up she was, and that I had no reason to expect anything from her. I wound up feeling sorry for the completely damaged person she had become. And I was able to move on with my own life." The tears streaming down Andie's face told a slightly different story.

Wilson wanted to give her some comfort. Part of his mind screamed that he should be having sex with her right now, telling her everything he thought she would want to hear. The other part did not want to mess this up. He reached for a tissue and handed it to her. "Those damned onions, right?" he said ruefully.

"Yeah, that's it," she replied, grateful for the cover Wilson had provided to her.

She dried her eyes and they continued cooking. "Tell me something about your family," Andie said.

"Well, everyone is pretty, um, dull, compared to your family. My dad is a retired architect and he and my mom spend part of the year here and part of the year in their condo in Florida. I have two brothers. One is an accountant who lives with his wife and two girls outside Philadelphia. My youngest brother, Danny, lives in a group home in Trenton. He's schizophrenic," Wilson explained.

"Hey, not too dull!" Andie exclaimed. "You've got a little of the crazy in there."

"Actually, in some ways, Danny is less screwed up than I am. It's just that I can hold down a job that is slightly more complex than bagging groceries and I can carry on a semi-coherent conversation, so people think I'm the healthier one," Wilson replied.

"Well, now I have to ask the question, how exactly are you screwed up?" Andie asked, but there was a smile on her face.

"I've been married three times and in numerous relationships, and none of them has worked out," Wilson said.

"Maybe you just never found the right person," Andie stated.

"I thought I did, about five years ago," Wilson sighed. "She died as the result of a bus crash."

"I'm sorry," Andie said, not sure what else there was to say.

"It was a particularly bad time," Wilson said. "House was there and, well, it's a long story, but I pushed him to do a medical procedure on himself to try to save her, and he couldn't, and I got angry at him and felt guilty, too, and I stopped being friends with him for several months. Even when we started the friendship again, it was really strained. They found Danny, who had been living on the streets and I put him in a hospital in Manhattan. House had a breakdown shortly afterward, so I spent several months visiting each of them in psychiatric hospitals. Good times."

"Well, Greg seems to be pretty functional, and Danny seems to have kept off the streets, so at least things are better," Andie offered encouragingly.

"For them, yes, absolutely," Wilson replied. "And that does make me happy for them."

Andie considered asking Wilson what would make him happy, but decided they had had enough intense discussion for a while.


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., Except OCs**

They had finished chopping the onions and garlic, and cleaning the seafood. "Want to see why people rave about my cioppino?" Andie asked.

"Sure," Wilson replied.

Andie heated some olive oil in a pan and put the garlic in it. "Can you stir this to make sure it doesn't burn while I get something from my pantry?" Andie asked. Wilson took the spatula from her. She returned with a small, flat can and opened the pull top. Wilson recognized the concentrated fish odor as anchovies. Andie dropped several in the hot oil and motioned for Wilson to keep stirring. The anchovies dissolved into the oil.

Suddenly, an intense aroma filled the kitchen. "You smell that?" Andie asked rhetorically (unless one lacked the sense entirely, there was no way to miss it). "If I believed heaven existed, this is what it would smell like."

Wilson took a deep breath. It was phenomenally good. Even though it was a different smell, he felt the way he used to feel when he was in his bubbie's kitchen when she was making chicken soup. Comfort. Home.

Trying to keep himself from losing his bearings completely, Wilson focused on the cooking. "What gave you the idea to do this?" he asked.

"The combination of olive oil, garlic and anchovies is the basis for several Italian sauces, including puttanesca," Andie explained.

"It's amazing," Wilson stated.

They sautéed the onions and added the rest of the ingredients, except for the seafood, which didn't need to cook for very long, and would be added just a few minutes before dinner.

They had finished everything they could prepare ahead of time by about 3:30.

"When is Catia coming back from her play date?" Wilson asked.

"She's coming back at five, with Lisa, Greg and Rachael," Andie replied.

"What should we do until then?" Wilson asked.

"Would you like to hear some music?" Andie inquired.

Wilson indicated that he would. He was expecting Andie to put a CD on her stereo in the family room. Instead, they went to a separate room in the back of the house. It was filled with musical instruments including a harpsichord, a viola da gamba, a lute, and several different types of wind instruments Wilson didn't know the names of, as well as a couple of guitars.

"Do you play all of these?" Wilson asked.

"Most of them," Andie said. "Some were left here by members of the Sunday group."

Andie picked up the viola da gamba, and began tuning it. When it was tuned to her satisfaction, she picked up the bow and began playing. Wilson didn't know much about music written before the twentieth century. This music was precise, almost mathematical, yet full of emotion at the same time – a combination of both joy and sadness.

Andie played for about ten minutes. Wilson noticed the way she was almost hugging the instrument, and the expressions that moved across her face. _God, she is so beautiful_. Wilson thought.

When she was finished, she put the instrument down. "How was it?" she asked.

"I loved it," Wilson replied. "What did you play?"

"It was a Bach piece for solo cello," Andie answered, thinking that Wilson would not particularly care which partita in which key it was.

Wilson wasn't sure what possessed him, but, without even remembering having crossed the room, he found himself standing very close to Andie. He began to stroke her cheek. He wanted to tell her how amazing she was, but he thought whatever words he used would be inadequate. He leaned in to kiss her instead, using his mouth to show her rather than tell her how he felt. She reciprocated, their tongues dancing in each other's mouths.

They continued to kiss for several minutes. When they broke for oxygen, Andie took Wilson by the hand and led him to her bedroom.

It didn't take long for both of them to be out of their clothes. Wilson looked appreciatively at her body. It was both muscular and curvaceous at the same time. He ran his hands along her sides, causing her to shiver with pleasure from his touch. She ran her hands across his chest. She pushed him down on the bed and began to kiss his face, his throat and the sides of his neck, one of his most erogenous spots (north of his belt, anyway). "Your skin is so soft," she murmured into his neck.

"Are you okay with that?" Wilson asked, coming out of his arousal a bit. "Is it masculine enough?"

"It's delicious," Andie replied, continuing to kiss, lick and suck his neck and behind his ears. "There's plenty of manhood here." Andie began to stroke his already excited cock and caress his balls.

Wilson responded by becoming harder. He was straining not to come in her hand. "I need to . . . " he grunted.

"Yeah, me too," Andie acknowledged as she climbed on top of him and guided him into her.

Wilson felt her heat and wetness and almost lost it again. _She thinks I'm hot, too_, Wilson had a brief flash of satisfaction before his brain became completely dominated by the physical activity he was engaged in. They found a rhythm and continued to ride each other, with Andie pushing down and Wilson pushing up. Andie climaxed first, with her entire body seemingly convulsing around Wilson. He lost it shortly thereafter, vibrating deep inside her.

They found themselves lying side by side as their senses slowly returned.

"I guess last weekend wasn't a fluke," Andie said with a sly grin on her face. "Your performance is consistent, and . . . fantastic."

Wilson both blushed at the praise and felt proud, too. He'd had this women a whopping total of three times, and he couldn't imagine not wanting her for the rest of his life. He had to get control of himself.

Andie began stoking Wilson's chest. Her hand made its way down to his abdomen and drew small circles. Wilson suddenly became conscious of his soft middle. He pushed her hand away, lightly, he hoped.

"What?" Andie asked. "Did that bother you?"

"I'm not exactly a model for six-pack-abs," Wilson confessed. "I know at my age I should either be less self-conscious about it or do something to fix it, but I haven't."

"Wow, there's the problem and then the self-flagellation about not fixing it or not accepting it. It's like a two-for-one-sale," Andie commented, as the smile returned to her face. "You remind me of me."

"Well, as long as we have something in common, we'll at least have something to talk to each other about," Wilson replied, his own smile emerging.

"If you want, I can help you get a little more toned," Andie teased. "There are worse things I can think of than getting sweaty with you on a frequent basis."

"Okay," Wilson said, trying not to let the hurt show in his voice. He was unsuccessful.

"Hey, don't do it on my account," Andie responded. "I think you are fabulous just the way you are."

"Seriously?" Wilson asked.

"Yes," Andie replied. "You are the sexiest man I've been with since, well, ever."

Wilson's self-esteem was such that he didn't want to believe what she said, but what reason would she have to lie to him? And the way she responded to him physically certainly seemed to support her words.

"Oh, shit," Andie exclaimed, looking at the clock. "It's 4:45. We'd better get dressed before our guests arrive."

They both jumped out of bed and started getting into their clothes so quickly that it took a second for what Andie had said to register with Wilson. Our guests. Like it was his home, too. He didn't want to read too much into it, but hearing that made him feel more content than he had in a long time.


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: Sorry this is late, but I seem to have hit a bit of writer's block. I'm sure my muse will return soon, so please bear with me until she does.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., Except for OCs**

Cuddy, House, Rachael and Catia arrived a little after five. Wilson made sure that he was not alone with House so that House wouldn't bug him trying to find out anything that happened that afternoon when he and Andie were alone. Since House was the opposite of discretion, Wilson was sure he would say something to Andie. Wilson didn't want Andie to think that he was bragging to House as though Andie were just another notch on his belt. Even though he had only known her for two weeks, she already meant a great deal to him.

After they finished dinner, the girls went to Catia's room to play while the adults sat around the table talking.

"Your amnio is next week, right?" Andie asked. "When do you get results?"

"In about two weeks," Cuddy replied.

"Wow, that's a long time to wait," Andie responded. "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," Cuddy replied.

"How is the wedding planning going?" Andie asked.

"Cuddy decided she isn't going to invite her mother or her sister and her family," House said, unable to avoid displaying his delight.

"Interesting," Andie stated. "How's that going to work with your dad? Are you going to send the invitation only to him? And fill out the number of guests as one before you send it?"

"Well, since the wedding is small and we don't have a lot of time, we won't be sending out any formal invitations. We'll probably just call people or ask them in person." Cuddy replied. "But, yeah, that will be an interesting conversation with my dad."

"Do you think he'll actually attend?" Wilson asked.

"Only if he wants to sleep with one eye open for the rest of his life," House commented.

"Yeah, it is pretty unlikely, and I'm sorry about that," Cuddy said, "But I just can't have my mother come and snipe through the whole thing."

"You know you don't have to explain to me about dealing with a difficult mom," Andie said sympathetically. "What about the rest of the arrangements?"

"Well, I'll be home a couple of days after the amnio, so I hope I can get on-line and on the phone and get a lot of it done," Cuddy replied.

"If you need any help dress shopping, let me know," Andie said.

"Well, that may be a challenge, since I will be quite pregnant by the time of the wedding," Cuddy responded.

"I had a colleague in my department get married when she was about seven months, and she found a decent-looking dress. I'll ask her where she got it," Andie stated.

"Just no white," House interjected, expressing his first wedding-related opinion of the evening. "It's a little too hillbilly with a largely pregnant bride, and we don't want Cuddy to look like a whale."

"Thanks," Cuddy responded sarcastically. "I could always wear black. It's slimming, and it's the color of mourning."

"Sounds like the wedding will be a blast," Andie joked. "Are you going to write your own vows?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," Wilson stated. "I did that for all three of my marriages, and after all those expressions of undying love and forever, none of them lasted for more than four years."

"That must be really embarrassing when you watch the wedding videos," Andie said.

"I don't actually know what happened to any of those," Wilson responded.

"I'm sure your ex-wives and their new husbands and/or boyfriends have spent many enjoyable hours laughing at them," House replied.

"My ex and I didn't write our own vows," Andie stated. "So, I'm pretty sure that whether you write them or not doesn't really determine if you stay together."

"I'm game if you are, Cuddy," House said.

"Okay," Cuddy responded, wondering what she was getting herself into.

It was getting late, and Cuddy wanted to get Rachael into bed at a reasonable hour. They returned home and Rachael went to bed.

"Do you think Wilson will spend the night with her or not?" House asked Cuddy.

"You know, for two heterosexual men, you are worse gossips than any ten women I know," Cuddy snarked.

"Hey, we're just a couple of sensitive guys in touch with our feelings," House said in a mocking tone. "You didn't answer the question."

"I don't care," Cuddy replied. "As long as whatever they do makes them happy."

"You know what would make me happy?" House asked. "Seeing you naked would be a good start."

"I think the bedroom is this way," Cuddy indicated as she walked toward the back left corner of their home.

House followed her as quickly as he could. He'd been thinking about having sex with her all day, thwarted by the presence of the two young girls. "Remind me not to agree to watch anyone's kid again," he said as he closed and locked the bedroom door.

"Well, it's not like we would be doing it in every room in the place with Rachael here," Cuddy reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah," House reluctantly agreed. "The naked part . . . "

Cuddy began by removing her shirt. She had been forced to buy a new set of bras because she had grown a full cup size. House, of course, had no complaints about that. Her baby bump had grown into a half-ball. It hadn't really popped yet, and she could still disguise it (sort of) with a strategically placed jacket or loose sweater, but her lower back was starting to hurt, especially when she was on her feet for long periods of time.

House surveyed her, taking in every detail. He walked over to her and quickly removed her bra. Her nipples were getting larger, even without any stimulation. House smiled with approval and began to caress them. They were so acutely sensitive that they became hard at the slightest touch. "Mmm," Cuddy murmured.

House removed her pants and panties quickly. He sat on the bed and looked at her closely. She had become much more curvaceous and soft. House had seen plenty of pregnant women during his medical career, and they had all seemed pretty much like amorphous blobs to him. Cuddy was so very different. Her full breasts resting on top of a small, curved belly, and the exquisite curve of her back leading to the roundest, most beautiful ass he had ever seen. His fingers twitched with wanting to touch her. "Get over here," he commanded, unable to mask the lust in his voice.

She willingly complied, making her way to the bed and adding a little extra sway with her hips. She could see how much he wanted her, and she wanted him at least as much, if not more.

She stretched across the bed and he began to caress her. It almost didn't matter where. Every part of her felt alive to his touch, and it made him feel alive, too. His long fingers moved through her hair, touched her face, and stroked her neck and shoulders. He felt the curve of her back. He lingered when he reached her ass, kneading it gently.

He ran one hand along the back of each of her legs, and drew his fingers lightly on the soles of her feet. As he knew she would, she found this both ticklish and erotic, and gave him a throaty, almost unbearably sexy laugh. He laced his fingers between her toes and kissed the both the bottoms and the tops of her feet. She moaned and he knew she was ready for him. Reaching up to touch her, he felt her unbelievable hot, sweet wetness.

"Just a little taste," he said almost more to himself than to her. His tongue licked every centimeter of her lips, dipping inside her when he felt the need. Finally his tongue found her clit. He knew if wouldn't take much stimulation to send her hormone-filled body over the edge, and he wanted to be inside her when that happened, so he had to be careful.

After a few feather-soft licks, he knew she was so very close. He stopped. She almost let her displeasure be known, but she wanted him inside of her so much, she bit her tongue and waited. As his penis touched her opening, she almost came, but she took several deep breaths and was able to hold off. He moved achingly slowly, easing himself into her. He only had to thrust a few times and they both came, each overtaken by near-convulsive shaking. After their release, they were lying next to each other, with their bodies touching as completely as they could. Cuddy began to giggle. With her belly resting against his, House felt the same thing she did and involuntarily smiled. The baby seemed to be responding to their activities with rolling and kicking.

"This kid has to be a boy," House said.

"Why?" Cuddy asked.

"Because he responds to a very satisfied woman reacting all around him," House replied with an evil grin.

"I just hope both of you can sleep and give me a little peace," Cuddy wished.

After the baby settled down a little, Cuddy fell into a deep, contented sleep. House stayed awake a little longer, holding Cuddy in his arms. He looked over Cuddy's shoulder and noticed the clock on her nightstand said 1:30. He was sure he hadn't heard Wilson leave next door. He fell asleep smiling for himself and his best friend.


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., Except OCs**

Cuddy's amnio was scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. She had a little free-floating anxiety about the procedure, because she knew it could be somewhat painful, and even more so because she knew it carried the risk of miscarriage, even if it was a small one. They decided to do it because the results could give them a lot of information about any serious defects the baby had, so they could either decide to abort or be prepared to deal with whatever the issues were. Of course, what Cuddy really hoped was that they would find everything was okay, and it would give them some peace of mind.

House wasn't hoping for anything, since that was for sissies, but he did really want to know if anything was going on. It was part of his need to solve puzzles, or so he had almost convinced himself.

House met Cuddy in the exam room in obstetrics. The obstetrician arrived shortly afterward.

The physician's assistant had already done the preliminaries for Cuddy's exam. "Well, your blood pressure and heart rate are good, and your weight gain looks just about right," Dr. Zimmerman stated, looking at the file. "And your glucose tolerance test came back within normal limits as well."

"Being doctors, we probably would have noticed any raging gestational diabetes symptoms, like Cuddy drinking gallons of liquid and peeing like a racehorse," House snarked.

Cuddy shot House a warning glance. "Thanks for the information, Ronda. It seems like it's all good news so far."

"Let's hope for some more today, Lisa," Zimmerman said as she scowled at House. "And you wanted to know the sex of the baby, right?"

"Unless you can do this with the ultrasound screen covered, which I wouldn't recommend, I'm pretty sure we're going to see it, again, what with us being doctors and all," House replied sarcastically.

"Fine," Zimmerman responded tersely. She could see why almost every other doctor in the hospital couldn't stand House. Only Dr. Wilson could tolerate him, and Zimmerman had always thought he was a little strange. What Cuddy saw in House she couldn't imagine. _Must be amazing in bed_ she thought.

"Let's get this going; I'm sure your bladder won't appreciate a long session," Zimmerman stated, mindful of the water Cuddy was required to ingest prior to the procedure. She put the gel on her abdomen and began to look at the monitor. "Well, there's the baby."

Since Zimmerman was focused on the task at hand, she didn't notice House's eye roll at her totally inane narration. He kept looking for a view that would tell them what they wanted to know.

"There it is," Zimmerman exclaimed and turned the monitor so Cuddy and House could see. "It's definitely a boy."

Cuddy beamed and let out a soft cry of happiness, almost like a joyful squeak. What she wanted most was a healthy baby, but, since she already had a little girl, she had secretly harbored the hope that it would be a boy. House's son. When the reality of that fact began to sink in, she decided she had to call House's mother, just to find out what she was in for.

House's face remained expressionless, processing the news. As usual, his emotions were completely mixed. On the one hand, he was afraid that with his relationship with John having been so bad, he wouldn't know what to do or he would do the wrong thing. On the other hand, if he could just keep himself aware enough, this gave him the chance for a do-over. He could make up for at least some of the pain of his own childhood by being a loving (or, as loving as he was capable of) father to his own son.

"Needle time," Zimmerman announced none-too-delicately, figuring that both House and Cuddy had witnessed and participated in multiple amniocentesis procedures through the years, so they wouldn't be surprised at what came next. She slid the needle into Cuddy's abdomen.

"Ow," Cuddy exclaimed.

"The needle shouldn't hurt too much," Zimmerman stated.

"It's not the prick of the needle," Cuddy responded, not that that was the most fun she had ever had. "Apparently my uterus doesn't like having things stuck into it. The muscles are protesting."

"Are you getting cramping?" Zimmerman asked, with a small amount of concern in her voice.

"Um, it's not like that." Cuddy replied. "It's more like the worse pinch I've ever had in my life."

"That's not uncommon, but it's sounds a little more severe a reaction than we'd like," Zimmerman said. "I'll try to get the sample as quickly as I can."

House could see from the monitor screen that Zimmerman wasn't having any success.

"Sorry, but this isn't working." Zimmerman told them. "I'm going to have to try another spot."

Cuddy wasn't thrilled about another needle jab, but she really wanted to be able to have the tests run, so she agreed.

The second attempt was no more successful than the first, and the pain was worse.

"I think we better stop for today," Zimmerman stated, with the concern evident in her voice.

"But you didn't finish the test," Cuddy protested.

"I don't think you want to take the chance of having a miscarriage," Zimmerman reminded her. "We can try again next week, if you want. In the meantime, consider whether you think the benefits of the test outweigh the risks."

Zimmerman handed Cuddy a tissue to wipe off the gel. "I know you must need to go to the bathroom right now, but I want you to take it easy. So, let House help you, okay? And call my office as soon as you know if you want to retake the test." With that, Zimmerman left the exam room.

"Let me help you walk somewhere? She must have forgotten I'm a cripple," House snarked, trying to get Cuddy's mind off the test not working.

"I really do have to pee," Cuddy said, with some urgency in her voice.

"Any cramping or other pain?" House asked.

"It's sore around the sites where she used the needles, but, other than that, no," Cuddy replied.

"Okay," House said, motioning for her to get down off the table and holding out his arms for her to use as a support. He led her to the bathroom where she relieved herself.

"Any spotting?" He asked, more in doctor mode than anything else.

"No," she replied, deep in thought. She wasn't devastated by any means. They could always try to have the test done again. By next week, the volume of amniotic fluid could be greater, which would mean the odds of getting results would be higher. Still, since they were trying a second time, this would, in effect, double the risk of miscarriage. (House wasn't the only one who could do the math.)

She was preoccupied enough with what had happened and with getting dressed carefully that she didn't notice House leave and come back with a wheelchair. "Is that really necessary?" she asked in frustration. "You know you wouldn't use one."

"First of all, it's not likely I'd have to take it easy after an amnio, since the odds of me being pregnant are non-existent," House informed her. "Second, I'm a stubborn self-destructive ass who cares more about people not pitying him than he does about his own health. Don't think you fall into that category."

"I'm pretty good at the stubborn part," Cuddy said, still eyeing the wheelchair askance. "Oh well, I guess I should use it. Could you at least take me out the back way so I have fewer people gawking at me?"

"No problem," House replied. "Of course, the downside is that the rumor mill will no doubt be in high gear."

"Hey, after you've had sex in your office and Wilson knows about it ten minutes later, how much worse can this be?" Cuddy asked rhetorically.

House smirked at the memory of their celebratory sex in Cuddy's office after she told him she was pregnant. He decided not to dwell on the fight they had afterward.

They made it to the parking lot with minimal interaction with the staff. House helped Cuddy into her car and left to return the wheelchair. When he got back to the car, Cuddy was finishing up a phone call.

"Did you call Wilson?" House asked.

"No, you're the president, CEO and sole employee of the Inform-A-Wilson Company, so I'll leave that to you." Cuddy stated flatly. "I just asked Andie if Rachael could stay at her house until after dinner, so we could have the chance to talk about this . . . situation."

"Okay," House said. He got in and started the car. They were quiet on the way home, each lost in their own thoughts.

Andie came over with Catia to wait for Rachael.

House went into the family room to watch TV and Catia followed.

"Do you care if she watches Judge Judy?" Cuddy asked.

"No," Andie answered. "Most of the people on that show are garden-variety stupid as opposed to perverse stupid like on Jerry Springer. She's going to need to deal with that at some point in her life, so that's okay."

"I guess I never considered Judge Judy as a learning opportunity," Cuddy said. "Just don't tell House that, or I'll never get him to do any work in the afternoon."

"Sure. Hey, do you want to pack a bag so Rachael can stay overnight at my house and go to school from there?" Andie asked. "Wilson is coming over, so she probably won't feel too lonely or homesick."

"Are you sure you want a kid running around when you are on a date?" Cuddy asked

"Well, we're trying to pretend that when we get together it's not a date. It just takes the pressure off a little bit. And, it's not like Catia isn't going to be there anyway, unless we lock her in the closet for a few hours," Andie responded.

"If you don't mind taking her, that might help," Cuddy said.

"If I minded, I wouldn't have suggested it," Andie replied.

Cuddy went to get a backpack to put some of Rachael's things in it. When Rachael got home, she kissed Cuddy and House an early goodnight and went next door.


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: Don't Own etc.**

House called Wilson at the office. He was finishing up some paperwork.

"Is everything all right with Cuddy and the baby?" Wilson asked with concern.

House knew the rumors would be flying around the hospital. "They're both fine. The Ob/Gyn couldn't get enough amniotic fluid for the test, so we have to decide if we want to do it over," House informed him.

"What about the increased risk of miscarriage?" Wilson asked.

"Thanks, Dr. Wilson, for reminding me of that," House replied with his voice full of sarcasm. "After four years of medical school, internship and residency, and two specialties, plus twenty years of practice I'd completely forgotten."

"You're welcome," Wilson replied equally sarcastically. "Glad to be of assistance. Seriously, do you know what you are going to do?"

"It's up to Cuddy," Housed answered with a hint of resignation. "Ultimately, it's her body, so it's her choice."

"Please," Wilson said with exasperation. "If the roles were reversed, you'd be mocking me right now for spouting slogans rather than facing the issue."

"True, but I'm so much better at mocking than you are," House responded.

"Deflection time," Wilson sighed. "Just let me know what _Cuddy_ decides."

"Will do," House responded. "Enjoy your night at Andie's, and don't be so loud that you keep Cuddy and me awake."

Wilson's initial inclination was to be indignant, but this was House, after all. "Goodnight, House."

"Goodnight, Wilson," House replied and hung up.

House ordered Thai, which they didn't have that often because Rachael didn't really like it.

They sat at the dinette table, eating and not talking much.

"House, you seem so calm about all of this," Cuddy observed with frustration.

"It's only a test, Cuddy. It not like there's anything actually wrong," House responded.

"There could be and we don't know it because we couldn't do the test," Cuddy said. "With all the crazy, life-threatening tests and procedures you order for your patients, I can't believe this isn't frustrating for you."

"The tests and procedures for my patients have a diagnostic purpose," House explained. "We are trying to save their lives."

"Well, this is a diagnostic test," Cuddy responded.

House sighed. "Not in the same way. I know with your obsessive-ness this will drive you crazy, which, will, in turn, mean I don't get any until you figure it out, so let me make this as simple as possible. Because of our extensive medical checks prior to your becoming pregnant, including detailed family histories, we know we don't have a lot of the genetic diseases the amnio tests for, like Tay-Sachs and Cystic Fibrosis. And I'm not even going to discuss the unlikelihood that the baby would have Sickle Cell, unless you break down and confess that Foreman is really the baby's father. So, what we are talking about is Down's syndrome. I've already told you I want to have the baby if it has Down's, so the whole discussion can be reduced to this: if you can live with the baby possibly having it, there is no need to perform the test again."

"Are you sure you're okay if we have a Down's syndrome child?" Cuddy asked, barely controlling the uncertainty and emotion in her voice.

"I already gave you the speech about intelligence being overrated, so yeah, I'm okay with it," House replied.

"House you are so full of crap right now, it's coming out of your ears," Cuddy responded to his statement. "If I'm the one who's going to make this decision, I need to know the real reason. You owe me that much."

"What do most parents want?" House asked rhetorically. "That their kids are happy. Who's to say that someone with Down's can't be as happy as any other miserable idiot out there?" House almost held his breath. Would this be honest enough for Cuddy? Not quite.

"That's part of it, but there's more," she insisted. "Tell me."

God, Cuddy could get so close to the bone. "This child will have your hair, or your eyes, or your fingers, or your something . . . I want to see that, Cuddy . . . I want . . . to love that," House said in a voice barely above a whisper.

He was looking down, so he didn't see that Cuddy's eyes were filled and overflowing. "I never wanted to abort, even if there were problems," Cuddy admitted. "I just didn't want you to resent this child if there were. Now that I know you'll love him . . . it'll be okay."

"It may not be okay," House cautioned, "But we'll deal with it. Your capacity to love must be damned near limitless, or you couldn't love me. Compared to that, this kid will be easy."

Cuddy finally couldn't hold it together any more and she dissolved into tears. House tried to hold her against his chest so she couldn't see him. She pushed up and rested her cheek against his. They both felt the co-mingling of their tears.

After they stopped crying, they separated. They put the leftovers away, cleaned up, and headed toward their bedroom.

House shed his clothes and asked Cuddy to do the same.

"Come over here," House requested. He was sitting in a large chair in the corner of the room. Cuddy complied. When she got to the chair, House turned her around and drew her down. She was sitting between his legs. House pulled her so that her back was resting against his chest. He put his arms around her. He began to kiss the back and sides of her neck and her shoulders, while his hands caressed her abdomen.

The tenderness of House's touch was surprising and wonderful to Cuddy. She was still very emotional from their discussion at the table. "I wanted to tell you that I want to love every part of this child that is you, too."

"I know," House replied softly, as he continued to touch her. God, she was intoxicating. Was she giving off an extra, or ten extra, doses of pheromones? House didn't know for sure. All he knew was that he could sit here in this chair with her like this for an eternity and still not get enough of her.

"Is he quiet or active tonight?" House asked softly into her shoulder.

"Your stroking me seems to be relaxing him," Cuddy murmured. "Even though it's not having that effect on me . . . or you." She could feel his erection pushing against her butt crack. She began to grind her butt against his cock.

"Umm," House responded. "That feels amazing."

Suddenly Cuddy lifted her backside and shifted around. House's manhood was now sliding along her channel. It was slick and warm. "Even better," House said, his increasing excitement evident in both this voice and in his body.

Cuddy gave House's legs a nudge and he put them closer together. Still facing away from him, Cuddy got up on her knees, placing her legs outside House's legs. She felt the tip of House's cock and began to ease it into her opening. She was concerned that with the way she was leaning forward and the extra weight in front might hurt her lower back, but House had his strong arms around her upper body, keeping the strain off her back, and keeping a lot of her weight from resting on his right leg. She began to slide up on down on his cock, with House thrusting upward to meet her. She was receiving some stimulation from the hair on his balls hitting her clit, but she didn't think she would have an orgasm from this position. House must have known this because he began to use one of his fingers to rub her clit. With his finger hitting just the right spot with just the right pressure (how did he always know?), Cuddy's orgasm hit her within a short time. The thrusting plus her walls closing around him sent him over very soon afterward.

Once again, the baby reacted by kicking and rolling. House and Cuddy moved to the bed and lay down together.

"Hey, now that we know it's a boy, we need to pick out names," Cuddy stated.

"I don't care about the first name," House replied. "The middle name is going to be James. I know there is the Jewish tradition of not naming someone after a living person, but you'll just have to figure something out."

"My dad is Irish. There have to be at least a hundred dead relatives named James," Cuddy replied. "You really don't care about the first name?"

"As long as it isn't too ghetto, with a bunch of capital letters in the middle of it," House replied. "Or too ethnic, with some weird spelling, or something that's so unusual that the other kids will make fun of it, and no names that have intimate body parts for nicknames."

"But, other than that, you're okay with whatever I pick?" Cuddy said with an ironic smile.

"Um, yeah," House replied a little sheepishly.

"I like the name Michael," Cuddy said. "It's classic and it doesn't seem to ever go out of favor. And I don't think there are any intimate-body-part nicknames. At least none that I can think of."

"Me either," House replied, "And I've spent a lot more time thinking about intimate body parts than you have."

"I wouldn't bet the farm on that," Cuddy asserted with an evil smile. "Remember I had all those years from Michigan until recently to fantasize about your intimate parts."

House smiled, in spite of himself. "We'd better get some sleep." House spooned around Cuddy and caressed her abdomen, trying to make sure Michael relaxed, too.


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: One of the reviews yesterday asked if I picked the name Michael for House and Cuddy's baby because of the death of Michael Jackson. If you read my story Presents, you'll find that I used the name in late April. So, I was just trying to be consistent with what I wrote previously. By the way, I did know a kid named Michael House when I was in school. He was very interesting. Taxidermy was one of his hobbies, and he used to bring his pet tarantula to school. (This was in the days before bringing in a plastic weapon could get you expelled, obviously.) Wait, what chapter was it where House and Wilson were unpacking and House mocked Wilson because he thought Wilson was afraid of finding his and Cuddy's pet tarantula? Seriously, my condolences to any Michael Jackson fans out there. And, here's some House-Wilson fluff. I'm 100% Huddy, but I do like to explore my House-Wilson bromance side now and then.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc. Except for OCs**

Cuddy spent the next two days at home on the Internet and the phone, making wedding arrangements. She got most of it done, with the exception of the dress.

Andie found out the name of the shop where her largely pregnant colleague purchased her dress. It was about an hour's drive away, and, after getting cleared by her obstetrician, Cuddy decided to go there with Andie on Saturday.

Wilson and House (reluctantly, in his case) agreed to watch the girls. Wilson wanted to take them to the park and House wanted to stay home and watch the monster truck show he had on TiVo. The girls voted to go to the park, and House was forced to go along.

It was a fairly chilly day, so the park wasn't crowded. House hoped the girls would get cold and want to leave right away. No such luck. They ran around and screamed at the top of their lungs, while Wilson watched them intently and House tried not to actually die of boredom.

"Why couldn't I bring my PSP?" House asked with a yawn.

"Maybe so you wouldn't look like a total jerk that's completely ignoring the kids he is responsible for," Wilson said.

"But I am a total jerk," House protested. "Even the kids know that."

"Yes, but the other parents don't, and I don't want the day to be interrupted by having to convince some cop who received a report of child neglect that you aren't guilty," Wilson stated.

"That would be a tough sell, wouldn't it?" House asked rhetorically. "But, it's okay for me to sit here yawning and looking completely uninterested?"

"For someone who is supposed to be so observant, you're missing a lot of things," Wilson replied. "There isn't an adult here who isn't yawning. They're not going to report you for what they're doing."

"So, I'm going to be that tired when Michael is born?" House asked of no one in particular. "I guess it'll be a change from the insomnia."

"You've decided on a name?" Wilson asked, with both excitement and disappointment in his voice.

"Yes," House said. "Michael . . . Michael James."

House didn't want to smile at Wilson's totally predictable and totally dorky reaction, but he couldn't help himself. The man just looked so pleased and proud.

"How did you come up with that?" Wilson asked, hoping to get House to admit something.

"Well, Cuddy's always liked the name Michael, apparently, and she has a lot of dead relatives named James on her dad's side, which is Irish." House replied, not wanting to give Wilson the satisfaction, at least not yet.

"Oh, so she's naming him after an uncle or something," Wilson muttered, looking dejected again.

"You're such an idiot," House exclaimed in exasperation. "I was the one who insisted that his middle name be James. And I told her she had to come up with some dead relative to pretend he's named after, so we wouldn't be violating one of your people's silly superstitions."

"It's not silly!" Wilson claimed. "I'm sure there's a good reason for it, not that I'd know what it is . . . So, you insisted his middle name be James, huh?"

"Actually, I only requested it," House attempted to backpedal. "Cuddy went along with it, for some reason."

"No, you just said you insisted," Wilson replied. "Don't try to take it back now, House. You're naming your kid after me."

"That's only because I love you," House said in a sickeningly sweet, mocking voice.

Just at that moment, a young woman pushing a stroller sat down on the bench next to their bench. "Which one is yours?" she asked House and Wilson.

"We have the two little girls on the swings . . . the one with the brown curly hair and the one with the straight black hair," House stated with exaggerated pride.

Wilson was about to protest when he realized it wouldn't do any good. It didn't keep him from blushing a rather intense shade of scarlet, though.

"Wow, you not only got a woman to agree to surrogate, but she either agreed a second time or you found someone else!" the young woman exclaimed in wonder. "Well, good for both of you. It's only a matter of time before New Jersey moves from civil unions to gay marriage, and, quite frankly, it can't happen soon enough for me."

"Thanks for your support," House replied with a little too much enthusiasm. "We can hardly wait to get married!"

At this point, Wilson was beginning to sink so deeply into the bench that his molecular structure seemed about to change to wrought iron. The girls ran up to them.

"We're hungry," Rachael proclaimed. "We think you should take us to lunch."

"Lunch it is," House practically shouted.

"It was nice meeting you," Wilson said quietly to the woman sitting next to them.

"Good luck to you and your family," she replied, looking at Wilson, House, and the two girls.

"Um, thanks," Wilson stammered in a low voice.

House was about to say something about the girls going to lunch with their two daddies, but, as much as he would have enjoyed continuing to mock the air-headed young mother, he decided it was too cruel to do that to the girls. That, and he didn't want his soon-to-be wife and the only neighbor that was still on speaking terms with him to get pissed, so he just smiled and waved.

"There's a diner very close to this park, I think," Wilson said to Rachael and Catia as they got into their booster seats in the back of the car and put on their seat belts. "Is that okay for lunch?"

"Will they have grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup?" Caita asked.

"Almost certainly," House answered from the passenger seat, thinking that wouldn't be a bad lunch for him to have, either.


	41. Chapter 41

A/N: One of the reviews of the previous chapter asked about Down's Syndrome and why it was there. I guess I just assumed everyone knew about this, and you know what happens when you assume. So, just in case there are any other readers out there who don't know why this is part of the story, I'll try to explain. (Bear in mind that I do not now nor have I ever worked anywhere near anything involving medicine.) Down's Syndrome is a chromosomal abnormality. The odds that child will be born with Down's increases with the age of the mother. The odds go up significantly after the mother reaches thirty-five, and continue to rise as the age of the mother gets higher. By the time a woman reaches forty, the odds of having a baby with Down's is one in 100 (for comparison, it's one in 900 if the woman is thirty) In this story, Cuddy is forty-five, so the odds of her having a Down's syndrome baby are on the higher side, obviously. So, this is part of the story just to make it slightly more real, and because it's something you have to think about if you have a kid after the age of thirty-five. Anyway, back to the story.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., Except OCs**

The ride to the dress store passed pretty quickly, with Cuddy and Andie talking about the wedding arrangements Cuddy had made the day before.

"You don't have to be formal. You can have it in your back yard put your speakers on the patio to play music, as long as you have good food and plenty to drink," Andie observed when Cuddy began to express doubts about what she had booked the day before. "It's just not worth sweating the details."

"Easy for you to say," Cuddy replied. "It's not your wedding."

"Yeah, but I've had one of those," Andie said. "It was perfect down to the last detail, and, guess what? We got divorced anyway."

"At my age I know that the wedding isn't as important as the marriage," Cuddy admitted. "Still, I'd like it to be nice."

"Then you should have picked another guy to marry," Andie laughed. "Seriously, as long as you are marrying the right person, you can have the ceremony performed in a field full of fresh cow patties on a humid, one-hundred-degree day with the two of you wearing overalls and it won't matter."

"Wow, that's a nasty visual," Cuddy shuddered. "Not to mention the olfactory is even worse. But, I take your point."

"Are you doing the second amnio?" Andie asked.

"No, we decided that we didn't need to. With our medical history, we are pretty sure the baby won't have the genetic diseases that an amnio tests for." Cuddy replied. "So, the only reason to do the test is to find out if the baby has Down's, and, since aren't going to abort if he does, we decided the test was unnecessary."

"So, you're just going to wait it out, then?" Andie asked.

"Well, the ultrasound results didn't show the abnormalities sometimes associated with Down's, so that makes the odds higher that he won't have it," Cuddy answered. "Although the ultrasound is not definitive."

"It's great you're having a boy," Andie said, with sadness in her voice. "God, I miss Jake."

"I know it's not the same, but we may need some babysitting from time to time," Cuddy said, trying (lamely, she was sure) to make Andie feel a little better.

"Yeah, you will, if you ever expect to have sex again," Andie said, her smile returning.

"How are things going with Wilson?" Cuddy asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Speaking of sex, very well, thank you," Andie said with a wicked grin. "The rest of it is very nice, too, but I think James and I are both holding back a little. There's something about trying and failing that makes you learn the lesson not to rush into things."

"Well, it took three tries to for Wilson to understand that lesson, but at least he's there now," Cuddy responded.

"Why do you think he's been married so many times?" Andie asked.

"A couple of reasons," Cuddy replied. "He's an incurable romantic, and not in a good way. He wants the perfect spouse and the perfect home, and, as you know, that doesn't exist even when things are going well, let alone if there are any problems. So, he is perpetually disappointed. Also, Wilson likes to save people, so he marries someone he believes is needy and then when she is better, he gets bored and starts looking elsewhere."

"Wow," Andie exclaimed. "So, what you're saying is I should stick to the sex and forget the relationship stuff?

"Not necessarily," Cuddy replied. "You're practical, and you can probably pull him back from being overly romantic to reality."

"With my history, he might be attracted to me because he thinks I'm needy," Andie pondered.

"Only if he never actually spoke to you," Cuddy stated. "It's obvious to anyone who knows you even a little that you are one of the toughest people on the planet."

"Thanks . . . I think," Andie replied. "So, you think it could work with James and me?"

"Yes, I think it could," Cuddy answered. "Of course, you're getting relationship advice from the same person who hesitated twenty-five years to marry someone, and even now, I sometimes have doubts . . . "

"If I were marrying Greg, it wouldn't be doubts, it would be a certainty that it wouldn't work. I think _you_ are one of the toughest people on the planet to put up with him, let alone love him," Andie stated. "Speaking of weddings, what sort of dress are you looking for?"

"I wish I knew," Cuddy replied. "I'm happy to look pregnant, but I don't want to look fat."

"You haven't put a lot of weight on in the back," Andie observed. "How about something that shows that off?"

"As long as House gets some cleavage in front, that would work," Cuddy replied. "And my arms are in good shape, if I do say so myself, so it could be sleeveless."

"Okay, it sounds like we have an idea of how the top half should look," Andie said. "What about length?"

"Well, I'm not tall enough to carry off a long dress," Cuddy noted. "Besides, if it's too long, with a large abdomen, I'll look like walking drapery."

"And, since you probably won't be able to see your feet by then, it would also be a tripping hazard," Andie joked. "So, no longer than tea length? And, I assume, low heels?"

"Actually, I think House has some pregnant hillbilly sex fantasy, so he would probably like to see me barefoot, but, yes, I think by then a low heel is all I'll be able to manage," Cuddy replied.

"Hey, you can always kick your shoes off at the reception and give him a little thrill," Andie chuckled. "What color?'

"You're lucky," Cuddy stated. "You have those intense green eyes, so you know green is always a good choice for you. My eyes are sort of a blue-grey, so I never know which way to go."

"You could do a combination of blue and grey, and appeal to all the Civil War buffs you invite," Andie smiled. "What about a soft lavender? That works with both grey and blue. It also would look great with your skin."

"So, if we can find all that in a dress, we should be all set," Cuddy said, the doubt in her voice evident.

"Hey, I just wanted to narrow it down a little," Andie explained. "According to Emma, this store has a huge selection."

"For brides, probably, but not pregnant brides," Cuddy responded.

"Actually, the store specializes in dresses for pregnant brides," Andie informed her.

"Seriously?" Cuddy questioned. "You wouldn't think there would be a large enough market for that to sustain an entire store."

"Well, with all the pregnant celebrities getting married, I guess it's become more of a thing," Andie commented. "Besides, this is New Jersey. If you can't shop for it here, you can't shop for it anywhere."


	42. Chapter 42

A/N: Another House/Wilson bromance chapter. Sorry I seem to be dwelling on this lately, but there is something about the whole wedding ritual (at least as practiced in the US) that brings out the absurdist in me. (Maybe the sum of all weddings I have attended, including my own. My husband and I still laugh over some of the things that happened.) And, when my absurdist muse is in attendance, I think House/Wilson. Go figure.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

In spite of her skepticism, Cuddy did find the perfect dress. The store even had forms for her to wear around her middle so she could see how the dress would look when she was bigger. Of course, it would have to be fitted shortly before the wedding, but Cuddy was happy with what she selected. The store even recommended a couple of local alterations shops so Cuddy wouldn't have to drive an hour for fittings.

The time before the wedding seemed to fly by. Wilson grew increasingly nervous because House didn't want to go to the store to try on tuxedos. He managed to bribe him by obtaining tickets to WWF in Madison Square Garden. It was outrageously expensive, but it was worth it to get House into the formal wear shop. They went on a Friday night, about three weeks before the wedding.

As Wilson and House entered the store, they were greeted by a sales associate named Devon. At least that was what it said on his name tag; who knew if his real name was anything even close to that. In order to avoid the embarrassment that House was so good at creating, Wilson attempted to clarify their relationship at the beginning of the transaction.

"Hi, Devon," Wilson began. "My name is James and this is Greg. We are here to pick out tuxes for his wedding to _Lisa._ I am his best man. We are _not_ together," Wilson clarified, moving his hand between himself and House and shaking his head to indicate that they were not in a relationship with each other.

"Well, Trevor and I got married in Massachusetts two years ago and we are very happy," Devon sniffed. "But, to each his own, I guess."

Devon pointed to the area of the store that had the rental tuxedos. "Why don't you look over there and come and get me at the register when you want to try something on. If you need more assistance with picking something out, let me know."

After Devon was out of earshot, House said, "Great, piss off the guy that is supposed to help us with your homophobia. He'll probably switch whatever we pick with light blue polyester tuxes, ruffled shirts and wide bow ties and send them over the day of the wedding when it's too late to change them."

"I'm not homophobic," Wilson insisted. "And I'm sure he's professional enough not to do that."

"Professional enough?" House asked. "Is there a Hippocratic oath for clothing store sales people I'm not aware of? Hey, I don't care what I wear to this shindig. You're the one who's going to be embarrassed when he's dressed like the dancing queen."

"Dancing queen?" Wilson responded. "Who's homophobic now?"

"Devon won't mind," House insisted. "It's just a little joke between him and me. You wouldn't understand."

"Can we just start looking, please?" Wilson asked as he headed toward the racks of rental clothing.

Of course, House wanted to settle on the first thing he saw. Wilson refused and held out the WWF tickets as a reward.

"You know, that event isn't until October," House complained. "How am I supposed to wait that long?"

"Learning a little delayed gratification wouldn't kill you, House," Wilson replied.

"This from a man who married each of his three wives within a month of meeting them," House snarked.

"I think I've actually learned from those mistakes," Wilson responded. "It doesn't seem that you have learned any patience at all."

"Hey, I soldiered on for three months trying my damndest to get Cuddy pregnant, and I never complained once," House proclaimed proudly.

"Such a sacrifice," Wilson said sarcastically. "You know, you could do the basic black tux with a really nice vest underneath. This one looks really sharp." He held up a vest with shades of blue and a touch of violet in a random pattern with some silver in it.

"I'm assuming you know the color of Cuddy's dress," House grumbled, resentful that this or any other information about the wedding was being withheld from him. "We won't clash, will we? Or are you going for that effect, to let people know what the marriage will be like?"

"Only you would gladly anticipate conflict, and be proud to symbolically announce it to everyone," Wilson said.

"Just being realistic," House replied. "If I don't expect perfection, bliss, and all that happy horseshit, maybe I'll actually have the chance to be content, for once."

Wilson knew House was right, at least about not expecting perfection. Wilson hoped he was growing up about that, as well, which was why he felt so content when he was around Andie. The fact that they seemed to crave each other 24-7 had nothing to do with it, of course. He left his thoughts of Andie to return to the task at hand.

"Here is your size for the tux, the shirt and the vest," Wilson stated as he handed the items to House. "I'll go get Devon to open a dressing room for you while I pick out an ascot."

"An ascot?" House asked, almost physically incapable of letting the opportunity for mockery pass. "Will I get to meet the Queen at the Henley Regatta this year?"

Wilson was going to bring House back to House and Cuddy's home as soon as they finished, and he was going to stay at Andie's for the weekend, as he had become accustomed to over the last month, so he didn't have to drive to back to the apartment. Still, it was the end of the week, he was tired, and he didn't want to get delayed, especially because of House's bullshit. "Shut up and try it on, or I'll tell Devon that because of your leg, you need him to help you in the changing room," he threatened.

"Okay, okay," House acquiesced.

Wilson went to the register and asked Devon to open one of the dressing rooms, and he went to look at the ties. When Devon saw what House was going to try on, he was impressed. _Maybe the guy in the cheap suit has some taste after all_, he thought. He went back to see how Wilson was doing with the tie.

"This blue one would work with the vest, and it would look great with his eyes," Devon noted, pulling out a tie from the stack.

"The bride's dress is lavender," Wilson informed him. "Would a lavender tie be good, or is that too high school prom?"

"It might be," Devon replied, wrinkling his nose. "Besides, he doesn't strike me as the type who would wear lavender, at least not without a lot of comments about not wanting to look like the people who play on my team."

"True," Wilson replied. And even though he still had the tickets to hold over House's head, so he would eventually prevail, Wilson didn't want one of his duties as best man to be begging House to wear his tie.

Devon brought the tie over to House's dressing room and Wilson followed. House was just emerging, wearing a tuxedo shirt, the suit and vest, and his Nike Shocks. He reluctantly allowed Devon to help him with the tie. Wilson stepped back to admire his work. "You look so good, Cuddy won't recognize you."

"The tuxedo fits you quite well, but we can't really tell if the pants are the proper length while you're wearing those things," Devon pointed with disgust at House's sneakers. "You'll have to come back once you get your shoes for alterations."

"Oh, man," House groaned. "I have to go shoe-shopping and I have to come back again?"

"We do have a nice selection of dress shoes here," Devon informed them, his eyes lighting up at a potential sale.

"Let's just get this over with," House replied with a growl as he limped toward the shoe section.

An hour later, House and Wilson each left with a new pair of dress shoes, two tuxes rented and left at the store to be altered, and they were lighter by several hundred dollars.

"I'd take you out to dinner to celebrate this odious task being complete, but I can't afford it now," House complained.

"Not necessary." Wilson replied. "I'm sure Andie made dinner, and I'm sure you can have whatever scraps there are left from the food Cuddy cooked for Rachael."

"Table scraps, how appetizing," House grumbled. "Before you know it, I'll be sleeping on the floor with a collar around my neck."

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't want to hear about your sex life with Cuddy?" Wilson asked with mock alarm.


	43. Chapter 43

A/N: Sorry I took so long to update, but between my writer's block, it being busy at home and the fact that I was all set to submit this chapter yesterday when a fifteen-minute thunderstorm took out our electricity for over twelve hours, it just didn't happen. Apparently, the power grid where I live is made of tissue paper! Again, I apologize for the wait and I hope you enjoy.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

Before Cuddy knew it, the wedding was only three days away. She had been thinking about what she was going to say, but hadn't really come up with anything appropriate. The last thing she wanted was to get an eye-roll from House while she was pouring her heart out, but everything she thought of saying sounded so lame.

Since she had kept things simple, there really weren't a lot of other things to focus on. They had the rehearsal on Thursday afternoon. (The wedding was small enough that they had decided not to have a rehearsal dinner, because it would be pretty much the same people at the wedding.) And she had her final fitting on Friday afternoon.

Andie had suggested that Catia and Rachael have a sleepover on the eve of the wedding and that she would get the girls ready the next day. Cuddy was very grateful for the help. Andie also suggested that House spend the night in her guest room, to keep him from getting underfoot, and so Wilson could help him get ready in the morning. Cuddy actually gave this some consideration, but she knew House would never go for it, since he had already told her he wanted night-before-the-wedding-sex.

House arrived home in the late afternoon. "Where's the kid?" he asked Cuddy.

"Rachael's next door, remember?" Cuddy reminded him.

"So, we're alone for the rest of the night?" House asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I need to write something for tomorrow," she informed him, "So I'm not sure when I'll be available for, you know . . . "

"Don't you have that finished yet?" House asked in frustration.

"No, do you?" she replied.

"No, but I'm not going to write anything down. I'm just going to wing it," House informed her.

"You're going to wing it and talk about feelings?" Cuddy asked, unable to mask the incredulity in her voice.

"You don't have to remind me that's not one of my strengths," House replied, with a mixture of humor and hurt in his voice. "It's not my fault that I spent a lot of my childhood being taught that feeling anything was weakness."

"Oh, House," Cuddy said. She moved over to sit next to him and put her arms around him.

"You always do this," House stated. "You feel badly about something that happened to me and you want to comfort me."

"Is that so bad?" Cuddy asked.

"Hell, no!" House responded. "I've gotten plenty of really good sex from you because of it."

"How could I have ever fallen in love with someone who is such a pig?" Cuddy asked.

"Because I'm a man. If I weren't a pig, I'd be gay." House replied. "Hey, I know what you can say tomorrow, 'I can't believe I'm marrying a misanthropic, sexually-obsessed, manipulative bastard who is a pig, but at least he's not gay!'"

"There won't be a dry eye in the place after that," Cuddy snarked.

"Hey, it makes me misty-eyed," House responded, melodramatically wiping non-existent tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Cuddy grabbed his hand and kissed it. She the moved her lips near his ear and whispered, "I adore you, Gregory House."

"I just told you the thing about feelings, didn't I?" he complained, although he was smiling. He leaned in to kiss her. Cuddy felt tenderness and longing.

_How could he still long for me?_ Cuddy thought as she returned the kiss_. I give myself to him every day. My body is carrying his child. I just told him not that I merely love him, but that I adore him, and he knows I'm about to declare that publicly._ Once again Cuddy became painfully aware that this man, who appeared to all the world as a contentedly isolated, unfeeling SOB was really a sensitive child terrified of being hurt. His vast intelligence was his pride and the source of his pain. If he wasn't so smart and so self-aware, life simply could not have inflicted the awful wounds on him that he had suffered. Or at least he would not have felt every fall of the hammer so terribly much.

Cuddy broke the kiss and began to kiss and caress House's face. She wasn't sure what kind of mood he was in and she wondered if he might push her away, at least gently. The way he held his head still and the way he was sighing let Cuddy know he actually wanted her to continue.

She slowly ran her fingers through his hair, continuing to kiss his face. In some ways, House considered what Cuddy was doing right now a more intimate act than sex. He never allowed hookers to touch his face or his hair, and most times he refused to let them kiss him (even though he always insisted it was the other way around). He had always thought these were things that lovers did for and with each other and he didn't want to let someone he barely knew touch him. It was also part of his desire to keep himself separate from other human beings. If it was just about primal need, then it wasn't about his humanity or his longing to be close to anyone, no matter how briefly, or so he convinced himself all those wrenchingly lonely years.

When he thought about it, even his relationship with Stacey was more about sex than anything else, at least when it came to physical contact. She was never really been the touchy-feely type, and before the infarction, House had always pictured himself as the strong, muscular, skilled lover. His need to keep himself apart didn't allow for much non-sexual touching or cuddling. Maybe that was part of the reason his relationship with Stacey fell apart. When he was no longer able to see himself as some macho, tireless lover, he could no longer believe he was satisfying her and they lost whatever tenuous connection they had.

House kept expecting Cuddy to stop or to move on to other parts of him, but she lingered. The longer she stayed, the closer House got to both sensory and emotional overload. He never imagined death by drowning could be so incredibly pleasurable. His body was also becoming increasingly aroused. His physical and emotional connection to her was something he had never experienced before. Sometimes, the intensity of it frightened him. If she ever left him, or if anything happened to her, he wondered if he would break down, and, this time, he didn't know if he would or could come back.

Suddenly, Cuddy stopped and pulled House up from where he was sitting. They went to their bedroom. It was almost an amusing sight – Cuddy waddling across the room with her seven-month pregnant belly preceding her and House limping behind with his erection preceding him. They quickly undressed, pulled back the sheets, and lay down on their sides facing each other, which was about the only position they could manage now that Cuddy had become so big.

House slid his manhood across her channel and she quivered in expectation. _Damn, I'm going to miss these pregnancy hormones_, House thought, realizing it would only be a couple of months before Cuddy gave birth. _Better enjoy them while I can._

He slowly began to insert himself into her. It was a little tough on both of their lower backs, with Cuddy straining to turn upward and House trying to curve around her abdomen to meet her. Somehow their lust overcame the physical impediments and House found himself thrusting inside her. As they climaxed, they both felt Michael kicking their respective abdomens. They rested their foreheads against each other as they caught their breath.

"Do you think he's going to remember this?" Cuddy asked.

"What?" House asked in return. "That his parents were so horny that they couldn't keep their hands off each other?"

"Something like that," Cuddy replied.

"I'm just hoping it gives him a subconscious appreciation of getting a really good lay," House stated.

"There's just no point in remarking again that you are a pig, is there?" Cuddy asked.

"Probably not," House agreed with a contented sigh.

Cuddy attempted to resume kissing his face running her fingers through his hair.

"Please, no more," House asked tentatively, in the softest voice Cuddy had ever heard him use.

"You don't like this?" Cuddy asked.

"I like it too much," House responded, kissing her hands in an effort to demonstrate he wasn't rejecting her.

"Too much?" Cuddy puzzled. Her sensual side simply couldn't understand enjoying something too much (provided, of course, your work is done, said the administrator in her head).

"It reminds me that I had no life to speak of before you, and how much I continue to need you," House tried to explain. "I don't know if I could live without you any more."

"If I lost you, I think that maybe I could keep going for Rachael and the baby," Cuddy said. "But if anything happened to the three of you, that would pretty much be it for me."

"What about your hospital?" House asked, actually surprised that Cuddy wouldn't put it at or near the top of her list of priorities.

"I guess I've come to realize that I've given years of my life to that hospital, and, as much as I care about it and the people who work there and the people it helps, I just can't care as much about it as my family," Cuddy replied. "The hospital is my job; you and my children are my life."

"I'm still addicted to puzzles, but you satisfy me more than solving any puzzle ever could. And our children . . . " House paused. All Cuddy could hear was him clearing his throat. She knew that he couldn't articulate what he was feeling because his emotions were so intense.

"I know," she said.

They held each other as closely as they possibly could and fell asleep.


	44. Chapter 44

A/N: This is a short chapter, but the next few are about The Wedding, so I hope that's okay. Just so you know, I'm agonizing as much as Cuddy about what she (and House) will say. :D

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

House woke up in a bit of a haze. His first impression was that he was back in his old apartment. He knew somehow that Cuddy had been with him. When he reached out for her and felt that the other side of the bed was cold, his hazy brain thought for a moment that they had had sex, and that she had left him afterward. He began to feel a profound sadness. He rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Once his head cleared a bit, he realized that he was not in his apartment, but in their home. His sadness lifted. He found Cuddy in a corner of the family room, sitting at her desk, looking disconsolate.

"Was the sex really that bad?" House asked, with more than a hint of humor in his voice.

"I still don't know what I'm going to say," Cuddy responded, staring at a blank piece of paper, with desperation in her voice.

"I seriously hope you're not looking to me to provide the answers," House stated sarcastically.

"Well, why are we getting married?" Cuddy asked rhetorically. "When you proposed, it's seems to me that the discussion was about how awkward it was to define our current relationship, and that it would be easier if we were married. Is that the only reason we're getting married? For convenience?"

"Well, I think there was something in there about you loving me," House commented. "And maybe, you know . . . " House stammered and moved his hands one around the other in a semi-circle, indicating the reverse.

"You can't even say it, can you?" Cuddy huffed. "Besides, even if it is about love, we already love each other, don't we? Why take the next step?"

"Hey, if you don't want to do it, it's fine with me," House replied, unable to mask the hurt in his voice. "We'll just tell the Justice of the Peace we changed our minds and have a party instead."

"Is that really what you want, House?" Cuddy asked, wondering how the conversation had so quickly taken this ugly turn.

"No!" House exclaimed. "You're the one who is questioning why we're doing it, not me!"

"And you still haven't answered that question," Cuddy responded.

"I have my reasons, and, if I tell you now, then it won't be a surprise at the wedding, will it?" House questioned.

"I bow before The Master of Deflection," Cuddy replied. "So, that's it, then."

House began to wonder if this meant Cuddy really didn't want to get married. He felt a sharp pang in his chest.

"All I have to do is figure out why we're getting married as opposed to just staying the way we are, and I'll know what I want to say," Cuddy reasoned, thinking out loud.

"Good luck with that," House snorted, attempting to hide his relief.

"Well, I guess it's not because my husband-to-be is so supportive," Cuddy said sarcastically.

"Hey, I'm supportive!" House protested. "I support your breasts with my hands whenever I get the chance, not to mention the number of times I've held up your ass with a good, firm squeeze."

"Oh, my romantic soul," Cuddy responded, putting the back of her hand against her forehead melodramatically. "My heart crumbles at your tender words."

"All you need is the Southern accent and I'll start calling you Scarlett," House replied.

"As fun as it is going rounds with you, this isn't helping me get the answer," Cuddy stated. "Why don't you just go back to bed?"

"I've gotten pretty crappy at sleeping alone," House admitted. "As long as you promise not to toss and turn in the agony of your deep thinking, why don't you just come to bed with me?" To make it more convincing, House gave Cuddy his signature puppy dog eyes.

"Like I can say no to _that_ look," Cuddy sighed in exasperation, more at herself than at House. "Let's go."

Cuddy was surprised when House took her hand, helped her up, put his arms around where her waist used to be and pulled her into a deep, tender kiss. They continued for several minutes, their passion growing as the time passed.

When they finally came up for air, they both moved toward the bedroom, knowing that House had been standing for a while and that they didn't want his leg to be tired for tomorrow.

House and Cuddy got back into bed and lay in each other's arms. _It better come to me in my sleep_ Cuddy thought as she drifted away to the sound of House's soft snoring.


	45. Chapter 45

A/N: And, so, The Wedding Chapters begin. Happy July 4 to my readers in the USA.

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The day had finally arrived. Cuddy still hadn't written anything down, and her obsessive side told her that was a mistake. She still wasn't sure what to say and knew she'd have to improvise, so she'd just have to make sure she didn't have a complete brain freeze at the ceremony.

House got up, took a shower, and headed next door with his tux and other formal accoutrements. He expected to find chaos with Wilson and three women getting ready, but it was surprisingly calm.

"Did you have breakfast?" Andie asked as she greeted him at the door in a t-shirt and jeans. "If not, I think there are still some of Wilson's pancakes left," She said over her shoulder as she headed back to the Catia's room to help the girls finish getting ready.

House put his stuff on the couch in her family room and headed for the kitchen to help himself. He made short work of the remaining pancakes.

Wilson entered the kitchen wearing his tux, but without his tie or shoes.

"You should be getting ready, not eating!" Wilson exclaimed. "It's only an hour and a half until the wedding, and it's a half-hour drive!"

"If you don't calm down, you're going to have an aneurism," House replied. "Since when does it take an hour to get dressed?"

"Since you're not wearing jeans and a t-shirt," Wilson replied. "Besides, you need to get there before the bride does."

"Why?" House asked.

Wilson was about to answer him when doorbell rang. "Could you get that please, James?" Andie requested, calling from the bedroom.

Wilson went to the door to find Chase. "I'm here to pick up the girls, are they ready?"

As Chase finished his question, Rachael and Catia came running into the hallway.

"Take it easy," Andie warned the girls. "You don't want to get messy before the wedding."

"Where are Blondie and The Blond Spawn?" House asked, limping towards the foyer.

"_Cameron_'s waiting in the van with _Randy_," Chase both corrected and explained.

"Yeah, yeah," House responded. "You're going to watch three kids for an hour and a half?"

"Cameron's really good at it," Chase said sheepishly. "We'll try to keep them clean," Chase told Andie as he took them to the car.

"I'm going over to help Lisa," Andie stated.

"Don't you have to get ready?" House asked, noticing that Andie was still in her jeans and t-shirt.

"I've got my make-up on, such as it is, and there's no point in trying to do anything much with my hair. So, all I have to do is put on my dress and my shoes," Andie replied as she pulled a garment bag and a shoe box out of the front closet. "As long as you practice basic personal hygiene and don't look like a seventy-year-old biker chick, there's minimal pressure when you're only The Best Man's Guest."

Andie picked up her purse from the hall table and leaned over to kiss Wilson. "Lock up when you leave, okay, honey?" With that she was out the door and down the driveway to next door.

"Honey?" House questioned, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It's one of several terms of endearment that we use," Wilson explained, attempting to salvage even a small portion of his dignity, to no avail. "And you need to get ready. Where is your stuff?"

"It's in the family room," House said, pointing to the couch. "You never answered my question about why I have to be early."

"Well, provided you get there before the bride, I guess you don't," Wilson admitted. "However, knowing Cuddy, I don't think she's going to be late, so I'd suggest you get there ahead of time."

Wilson went to the couch and retrieved House's things. "You can get changed in the guest room," Wilson directed, pointing out where it was.

"Don't want me to use the master bedroom, eh?" House asked with a salacious grin. "Too many used condoms in there or what?"

"House!" Wilson replied though gritted teeth. "Just get changed, unless you want me to help you, and believe me, right now, you DON'T want me to help you."

"All right," House said, realizing he might have pushed Wilson just a little too far.

In about fifteen minutes, House emerged from the guest room wearing most of his tux. He was missing his tie. "I have no idea how to put on one of these damn things," House proclaimed, waving the blue ascot.

Wilson had calmed down and was putting the finishing touches on his tie. "I assume you need help with that."

House nodded and Wilson assisted him. "Devon was right, that tie does a lot for your eyes."

"At this particular moment, I really don't need my best friend to go gay on me, okay?" House asked sarcastically.

"Look at yourself," Wilson commanded, showing House a full length mirror on the back of the guest room door.

House did as he was told. He had to admit, he'd looked worse. A lot worse. Actually, he wasn't disliking what he saw in the mirror.

"Pardon me, Narcissus, but we have to get going," Wilson reminded him.

"Oh, a Greek mythology joke! You can never have too many of those," House snarked.

As they went to the driveway to get into Wilson's car, House noticed that both Andie and Cuddy's cars were still there. "I guess they haven't left yet. I wonder what's going on over there."

"What's that Mark Twain or Will Rogers quote about people being better off not knowing how laws and sausages are made?" Wilson asked. "I think this is a corollary."

"Yeah," House replied in agreement. "Let's get going."


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., Except OCs**

Things were proceeding according to schedule at the House-Cuddy household. Cuddy had her hair finished. She was wearing it down, with her dark curls spilling over her shoulders. This looked well with her dress, and it was also how House liked her best. She had been lucky so far in her pregnancy in that her ankles were not retaining water. _Nothing uglier than swollen ankles hanging out over the sides of your shoes_ she thought.

Cuddy was working on her make up and thinking about how she would get dressed when Andie came in.

"Would you like some help?" Andie asked.

"Yes, very much," Cuddy replied. "Between wanting not to mess up my hair and make-up, and being largely pregnant, I had no idea how I was going to get into my dress."

"Your hair looks great," Andie said. "Don't forget you may want to wear a little more makeup than you're used to if you don't want it to get washed out in the photographs."

"Plus, I can look forward to House's hooker comments," Cuddy responded.

"So, why _are_ you marrying him?" Andie asked with a smile.

"That's what I've been trying to figure out," Cuddy replied.

Andie noticed Cuddy's tone. "Hey, what I said was a joke, but you sounded serious. Are you having doubts?"

"No, not at all," Cuddy dismissed Andie's concerns with a wave of her hand. "It's just that, at someone's suggestion," Cuddy glared at Andie for a moment, "we decided to say something at the wedding. I have been struggling to come up with something, and I realized if I knew why we were getting married, I would know what to say."

"Most people say you get married because you love someone," Andie commented. "But you already are together and could just stay that way, so it must be something else."

"Precisely," Cuddy responded.

"Does it have to do with the baby?" Andie asked.

"Maybe," Cuddy replied. "But I could always make House his legal guardian without marrying him."

"True," Andie said, continuing to think. "I got married because I thought it was something I was supposed to do. It's amazing that you can get to be twenty-five years old and still be that stupid."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. It is all part of a package that is sold to people, women in particular," Cuddy stated. "Get the husband, 2.3 kids and the house in suburbia, and you'll be happy. I had already reached the point that I didn't believe that any more, and then things started happening between House and me."

"What changed?" Andie asked.

"Well, I loved him from our days at Michigan, through everything, which was why I could never be happy with anyone else, and why I decided I would probably end up a single mom," Cuddy observed. "So, I guess it was House who changed. He must have realized that he didn't want to be alone, and that it was possible for him to find connection and maybe a small amount of happiness with me."

"A small amount?" Andie asked. "Don't sell yourself short."

"Thanks," Cuddy replied. "But it has nothing to do with me. House just has a hard time being happy."

"Abused when he was a child, yes?" Andie asked.

Cuddy hesitated answering, knowing that House didn't want it broadcast. Well, Andie figured it out, and what was House ashamed of, anyway? It sure as hell wasn't his fault. "Some pretty awful stuff, from what he's told me," Cuddy admitted. "And I'm sure he's held a lot back."

"Poor bastard," Andie responded, feeling a wave of pain from her own childhood. "I was spared the physical stuff, myself. In some ways, I think the psychological stuff is worse. You're so vulnerable as a child, and to have someone who is supposed to love and support you constantly telling how bad and screwed up you are, well, let's just say that's the gift of emotional trauma that keeps on giving."

"I know House still thinks sometimes that he's not worthy of being loved," Cuddy said with sadness. "Can you imagine a man that brilliant, handsome and gifted, who saves lives that no one else can, and he thinks no one could love him?"

"Is that why you're marrying him?" Andie asked. "To declare publicly that this man is worthy of being loved, and you're the one to do it?"

"It's such a small wedding that I don't know how much of a public declaration it is," Cuddy responded.

"Well, it is a declaration to the people that matter to you. Oh, and their guests," Andie stated with a smile, referring to herself.

"You matter to me," Cuddy corrected her. "I appreciate everything you've done for us since we moved here. And the fact that you and House can actually tolerate each other is a huge bonus."

"It's a 'mutual respect between musicians' thing," Andie replied. "Besides, I think I actually like the cranky old bastard, at least some of the time. And, he has excellent taste in best friends and soulmates."

"Well, we'd better get going or I'll be late to marry the cranky old bastard," Cuddy said.

Andie changed into her dress and put on her shoes. She carefully helped Cuddy into her dress. "They did a great job with the fitting. You look fantastic."

"One last thing," Cuddy said. She reached for a rather beaten-up box and opened it. She took out a chain with some sort of pendant on it. "Could you help me with the clasp?" She asked Andie.

Andie took the chain and put in around Cuddy's neck, fastening the clasp. At first, she thought it was made of sterling silver, but she realized that it was actually white gold. Out of curiosity, she moved around and looked at the pendant. It was about two inches long, in an intricate Celtic pattern. It also looked fairly old.

"It was my great-grandmother's," Cuddy explained without Andie having to ask. "My Dad couldn't be here, but he had promised my grandmother that his oldest daughter would wear this on her wedding day, and he sent it to me . . . " Cuddy stopped, sniffling back some tears.

"It looks beautiful with your dress," Andie said, restraining herself from adding any empty platitudes to comfort Cuddy.

Cuddy stepped back to look at herself in her bedroom mirror. There was certainly no doubt she was pregnant. And she did look beautiful, if she did say so herself.

They left for the hotel.


	47. Chapter 47

A/N: I'm sorry for making you wait so long for this, but I really wanted to get this right, or do it as well as I could, anyway. At least it's a long chapter. And thanks for your patience.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., Except for OCs**

House and Wilson arrived about a half-hour before the wedding. They were greeted by Jennifer, The Wedding Liaison. Wilson somehow managed to keep House from mercilessly mocking her title by warning him that she had the access and opportunity to spit on the wedding cake. Wilson had no idea if this were true, but if it kept House quiet, which kept the woman from being totally alienated, and the wedding stayed on track, what difference did it make?

House and Wilson were shown where they would stand. It was a platform with some columns and a few flowers, but nothing too over-the-top. House hadn't remembered Cuddy spending an inordinate amount of time on planning. In fact, she had told him that she delegated most of it to the person coordinating the wedding at the hotel, other than insisting that it be kept as simple and elegant as possible. So, Jennifer seemed to have good taste, even if she did have a ridiculous title.

Cuddy must have explained about House's leg, because Jennifer had a chair placed near the platform that was not visible from where the guests would be sitting. Initially, House was going to ask for a chair for Wilson, but Wilson was so nervous that House didn't think he could sit still anyway.

As House lowered himself into the chair, Wilson paced. "What are you so nervous about?" House asked. "You're not even the one getting married here."

"I don't know," Wilson replied. "It's just when your two best friends are getting married, it's a little emotional."

"Promise me now, on pain of death, that you won't break down and cry like a girl," House growled.

"I'm not going to cry." Wilson insisted.

"Remember, on pain of death," House reminded him.

"Do I look like I'm ready to start sobbing, House?" Wilson responded.

"Everyone insists they're in control, until they lose control," House said. "Just keep yourself together."

"Why do you care if I cry?" Wilson asked, suddenly wondering why House was so insistent. "Oh my God, you're afraid that if I get emotional, you'll get emotional, too."

"Yeah, because that's so much like me," House replied sarcastically, "All those emotions just below the surface ready to burst forth at any time."

"You forget that I've seen you get very emotional," Wilson countered.

"Well, that was at Mayfield and I was on heavy medication at the time," House explained.

"No, this was in your apartment, several years after you got back," Wilson stated. "Remember that huge fight you had with Cuddy and you thought she would never speak to you again?"

"Way to go bringing up memories of conflict between the happy couple at their wedding," House replied. "Besides, I was very drunk."

"Well, I see we're back with your two favorite companions, deflection and denial," Wilson said. "I just remember you sobbing. And you were still crying when Cuddy came over and I left to let the two of you talk. How did you ever fix that mess?"

"None of your damn business," House snarled.

"If it had been sex, you would have been crowing about it at the time, and you sure as hell wouldn't be uncomfortable telling me about it now," Wilson reasoned. "Oh my God, you must have said you were sorry. Too bad Cuddy didn't get a recording of that!"

"Speaking of Cuddy," House responded, trying desperately to change the subject, "Where the hell is she? It's time to get this show on the road."

"Actually, she's got another ten minutes or so," Wilson said, looking at his watch and deciding he didn't want to push House any further.

At that point, Jennifer came back to talk to House and Wilson. "I just wanted to let you know that the bride has arrived," she said breathlessly. "And all the guests are seated . . . "

"All twelve of them," House interjected sarcastically.

Jennifer gave him a puzzled look, but continued. "So, once the bride is ready, we should be all set to start."

At that moment, the judge appeared next to House and Wilson. Cuddy had decided that instead of a Justice of the Peace they didn't know, they would have Judge Farnsworth officiate. Cuddy had known him as a wealthy attorney and major benefactor to the hospital when she first became Dean. With Cuddy's help, he had been chosen to serve on the hospital board, which allowed him to meet the appropriate people in local and state government. This then allowed him to be considered for a judgeship when an opening occurred. The fact that Farnsworth and his wife had lost their only child when she was an adolescent and that Cuddy was about the age their daughter would be further cemented the relationship. Cuddy had invited the judge's wife to the wedding. These were the parents she would have picked if she could, so it took some of the sting out of Cuddy's parents not being there.

"Are you ready?" Farnsworth asked House. He knew House well enough from hospital fundraisers to be aware of House's sarcastic side, so he braced himself for the worst.

"Yes, sir, I am," House responded softly, totally surprising both the Judge and Wilson. "Not that she needs it, but I'll take care of her as best I can."

Wilson's jaw dropped in astonishment and Farnsworth was, to say the least, taken aback. "I know you will," he finally acknowledged.

The strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D began. Cuddy appeared at the back of the room and began to walk down the aisle. House had expected her to look good. Yet, he was still surprised at how beautiful she looked.

The front portion of her hair was pulled away from her face, but otherwise it spilled down to her shoulders in soft dark curls. Her dress was lavender, which made her blue–grey eyes almost sparkle in their intensity. It was sleeveless, with material gathered at the top of each of her shoulders, draping softy down to show her now ample bosom. The rest of the dress curved gently around her very round belly, giving it just enough emphasis. The lower part of the dress stopped about half way between her knees and the floor, so it had length and elegance, but also showed off her still shapely legs. House was used to seeing Cuddy in tight, tailored clothes. Even her maternity wear had a lot of jackets and skirts. But the overall effect of this dress was soft and completely feminine. House remembered the night that they sat in the chair and he held her in his arms and caressed her belly and kissed her shoulders and the back of her neck as she leaned against him. _God, I can't wait to get this ceremony and reception over with and get to the honeymoon_, he thought, barely suppressing a wicked grin.

Of course, what House couldn't see was how low cut the dress was in the back. It draped softly around her shoulders and curved downward, almost to the top of her backside. There were several eye rolls and smiles as the assembled guests noticed House checking out the back of the dress as Cuddy carefully stepped up on the platform.

"Cuddy, did you know that most of our guests are your employees, and that they really shouldn't be encouraged to check out your ass?" House whispered to her.

"Why not?" Cuddy whispered back. "You've practically made a career out of it."

House couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, but I'm going to be the only one of your employees who gets to check it out after today, right?"

"After today, it's all yours," Cuddy acknowledged with a grin.

As the music faded, the Judge cleared his throat to get everyone's attention and began the ceremony. House and Cuddy had chosen traditional vows. (With the exception of the bride agreeing to obey. Initially, House had thought it was a great idea to include that vow, until Cuddy reminded him of her excellent knife skills.) They also decided to have the traditional pledges associated with the exchange of rings, except the part about plighting the troth, since House said he refused as a matter of principle to have any portion of the ceremony be in Middle English. Finally, the time came for them to speak. House went first.

"Life sucks." House stopped long enough for the soft chuckles in the room to die down. "I think I can safely say that no one in this room has avoided bitter personal experience with that aphorism. I look around and I see people scarred by death, abuse, abandonment, deformity, illness, and loss. But, I also see people trying to cope with those tragedies and, for better or for worse, seeking solace in the people around them. Until recently, that was something I couldn't do. I could be a selfish bastard wallowing in my own pain, but being able to allow another person to get close enough to me to provide comfort, well, I was just too afraid. It took my nearly losing everything I valued to find out that someone even more stubborn than me was waiting for me," House paused for effect, " . . . to pull my head out of my ass. And so I did. I can still be a miserable SOB, as anyone who knows me will readily attest, but I have a life now . . . a life I never thought . . . " House's voice broke slightly and he cleared his throat. "Lisa Cuddy, I love you, and I'll stay with you as long as you can stand me."

Cuddy used her fingers to dab a few tears that had fallen down her cheeks. "I have to believe that many of you here today are thinking, 'What the hell is she doing?'" Cuddy began. She waited for the soft laughter to fade. "I have to admit, there have been days when I thought the same thing. Everything about this man is a challenge, including loving him. But, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm also going to share a secret with you," Cuddy said, as House's eyes showed surprise and some fear. "I'm sure many of you think that House is so hard to deal with because he doesn't feel things the way the rest of us do. In a sense, that's right. Not that he feels less than we do, but that he feels more. He needs to keep people at arm's length because if he doesn't and they hurt him . . . " Cuddy paused, looking into House's eyes and gently touching his cheek. "I've loved you for twenty-five years, Gregory House, and that will _never _change. I'll love you until the day you die, and, after that, I'll love you until the day I die. You've given me the privilege of letting me in, and, as long as you can stand me, I'm going to stay."

The room was so thick with emotion that time seemed to stand still. House and Cuddy continued to stare at each other, for the first time really understanding what they had decided to give to one another. They were both scared of living up to the promise that they had made to each other, but they were also both calmed knowing that, for the first time in both their lives, they wouldn't be alone.

Farnsworth finally brought the proceedings back by pronouncing them husband and wife, and telling them to kiss. The kiss itself began softly and tentatively. Cuddy thought it was because of House's discomfort with all Public Displays of Affection. But then he began to deepen the kiss. Cuddy followed and then deepened the kiss further. They began to get lost in each other. It took the Judge clearing his throat twice for them to become aware of their surroundings again. They broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together for a few seconds before they turned to face their guests.

As the "Ode to Joy" played, House and Cuddy stepped off the platform and walked down the aisle holding hands. They made sure to walk slowly enough so that House's limp would be less noticeable.

"So, that's it, then," House said in a soft voice. "No more pushing you away, even if I want to sometimes."

"And you have to let me see your pain from now on, and let me help you, if I can," Cuddy replied.

"Back at you," House replied. Even though he loved Cuddy's strength and independence, he also liked taking care of her, more than he ever thought he would.

At the end of the aisle they were stopped by Jennifer, who told them where to stand for the receiving line.

"Isn't this kind of silly for twelve guests?" House asked.

"No, and some really good pictures will come out of it, believe me," Jennifer responded.

"Well, as long as we are paying toward the photographer's kids' college fund, then I guess it isn't a total waste of time," House grumbled.

"Wait until you see how much fun the formal photographs are," Cuddy reminded him, and smiled as House groaned.

Rachael came running down the aisle first. "Congratulations, Mommy," She shouted, and threw her arms around Cuddy's non-existent waist.

"Thank you sweetie," Cuddy replied. She bent down as best she could, took Rachael's face in her hands and kissed her at least ten times.

Rachael turned to House. "Congratulations, . . . " she hesitated. She never knew what to call House. It was easy with Uncle James, Uncle Robbie and Aunt Allie. And all the other people that worked with her mommy were Dr. so-and-so, even the ones who came to the wedding -- Dr. Foreman, Dr. Hadley and Dr. Taub. Because of her having stayed over next door so much, Rachael had even started to call Mrs. Miles "Aunt Andie." Rachael wanted to call House "Daddy," but she knew she couldn't do it because he wasn't officially her father. It frustrated her six-year-old brain because she knew that in every way that mattered, he was.

As Rachael was thinking about this, House was also thinking that he was frustrated. He wanted to either pick her up and kiss her, or squat down and hug her. Damn leg. He did the only thing he could think of and patted her on the head. He promised himself he'd make it up to her . . . somehow.

Next came House's mom. She was wiping the corners of her eyes with a well-used tissue. "I never thought this day would come," Blythe confessed to Cuddy and she hugged and kissed her. "You've made me the happiest woman in the world."

"Hey, isn't Cuddy supposed to say that about marrying me?" House asked.

"Knowing you the way I do, Greg, if Lisa were saying that, I'd doubt her sanity," Blythe snarked. "I wish your father had lived to see this."

"Why?" House asked. "So he could tell me it was about damn time I married Cuddy with her knocked up for seven months? So he could be comfortable finally knowing for sure that he didn't have a queer son?"

"That's enough, Greg. You know he would have been happy for you," Blythe stated.

House knew no such thing, but it was bad enough Cuddy's mom and sister disliked him so much that Cuddy couldn't invite them to the wedding. He didn't want to further ruin the day for Cuddy by having an argument with his mom. House changed the subject. "What? No comments about the 'profanity' I used when I stood up to talk?"

"I was married to a marine for forty years," Blythe reminded him. "I doubt there is anything you could say that I haven't already heard. Why? Were you trying to shock me, just like you did when you were a little boy? How sweet."

"And very cute, too," Wilson sneered as he, Andie and Catia approached House, Cuddy and Rachael. He was rewarded with an eye roll from House.

"Congratulations, Lisa," Andie said as she kissed and hugged Cuddy. "You're one lucky bastard," she said to House as she kissed and hugged him, too. A small gasp of surprise went through the assembled group. Someone other than his mother or Cuddy had actually dared to show affection to House. He didn't return the affection, but just stood there stiffly. But he didn't push her aside or make a nasty comment, either. Silently, he hoped his reputation would survive.

Wilson hugged and kissed Cuddy. "What's it like to have fulfilled a life-long dream?" Cuddy asked, with both sarcasm and affection.

"Satisfying," Wilson smiled, almost smugly. "Don't worry. He still won't be entirely your responsibility. I'll make sure to yell at him every now and then, just to take some of the burden off you."

"Well, is it The Four Horseman, The Rain of Fire and The End of Days?" House asked as Wilson approached.

"Not really my Testament," Wilson replied with a smirk. "But, with my limited understanding, it's close." Wilson smiled as he put his arms around House.

"What the hell are you doing?" House asked, now really fearful for his reputation.

"I'm hugging you," Wilson said. "You know Chase is going to do it, so I thought I would, too."

"Over my dead body!" House exclaimed. "Get the hell away from me!"

Wilson stepped back, happy to be the one doing the tormenting for once. "Congratulations, House."

"Thanks, Wilson," House replied calmly.

Luckily, the next couple to approach was Foreman and Hadley, neither of whom would touch House with a ten-foot pole. Hadley gave Cuddy a hug, and offered her congratulations to House.

"Don't think that because Cuddy and I are away for ten days that your boyfriend can stage a coup and take over the department," House reminded her.

"No, he'll just work his ass off to keep it going until you get back," Hadley remarked. "Just like the last time." Hadley hadn't meant to bring up House's time in Mayfield, but she still resented the fact that Foreman never seemed to get credit for keeping the Diagnostics Department together for four months while House was getting treated. Or whatever it was they did to him.

"Well, as long as the paperwork is caught up," House stated with sarcasm. Hadley rolled her eyes and moved off. House noticed that Foreman had given Cuddy a very brief peck on the cheek. _God, he's even more uncomfortable with PDAs than I am_, House thought. _What a stiff, and not in a good way._

"Just make sure you get plenty on the honeymoon and come back in a better mood, okay?" Foreman asked. He had long ago stopped worrying about what House could or would do to him and pretty much said whatever came to his mind, appropriate or not.

"How dare you ridicule the sanctity of the married state by being so crude!" House exclaimed in mock indignation.

"What can I say?" Foreman asked rhetorically. "I learned from a master."

House's mouth turned up slightly in what passed for a smile for him. Or at least what he was willing to give to his employees. "Just keep the other two from killing someone, okay?"

"Got it," Foreman replied.

Next came Chase, Cameron and Randy, a.k.a. The Blond Spawn. Cameron and Chase both hugged and kissed Cuddy.

"How come she's so fat?" Randy asked.

"Randy! We already discussed this. Dr. Cuddy is expecting a baby, remember?" Cameron corrected him.

"Better get that straightened out before you start showing," Chase interjected, in what he thought was a low voice. Of course, House heard him.

"Did you hear that?" House practically shouted to Cuddy. "There's going to be a Blond Spawn II!"

"Smooth move, Chase," Cameron grumbled.

"Just for that," Chase said to House, "I'm going to do this." Chase encircled House in a massive hug and kissed him on the lips. House turned bright red and looked completely mortified. It didn't help that everyone had burst out laughing.

"Get the hell off me," House spoke through gritted teeth.

Chase realized he had pushed it a little too far and that if he didn't stop he was likely to get some part of his body injured with a cane-shaped object. He backed away, holding up his hands in a gesture of compliance.

Next in line were Taub and his wife. They both hugged Cuddy and shook hands with House.

"Got any tips on how to keep the marriage strong?" House snarked at Taub after his wife had moved on.

"I'd tell you to avoid nurses at any cost, but, since they already avoid you like the plague, I don't think you have to worry," Taub responded.

Finally, the Judge and his wife formed the last of the line. They hugged and kissed Cuddy and told House he'd better be good to her. Or else.

After that ordeal was over with, the Cuddy, House, Wilson and Rachael went for the formal photographs while the rest of the guests had drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

House really wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, so he began whining about his leg almost immediately. Several photographs were taken with House and Wilson, the wedding party and with House, Cuddy and Rachael. After Rachael and Wilson went back to the reception, the shots with the couple were to take place. At this point, all House wanted was some food and some bourbon, and his leg really was starting to hurt.

"Do we really need photos of just Cuddy and me?" he complained. "Can't you use the ones we just took and crop out Wilson?"

"This way," the photographer said, pointing towards a room next to where the reception was being held. As Cuddy and House entered the room they saw lighting, a background on the wall and a large, ornate chair. The photographer told House to sit in the chair and for Cuddy to stand behind the chair with her hands on the back of it. The back of the chair was high enough and Cuddy was short enough that it hid her abdomen pretty well. He then began to take pictures.

Although this was definitely easier on House's leg, Cuddy was curious about the setting and the pose. "This is very unusual," she remarked to the photographer.

"Actually, it's not," he replied. "Most wedding pictures at the turn of the last century were taken this way, with the husband sitting in a chair and the wife standing behind him. I'm not sure what the symbolism is, but it certainly works well for the two of you."

"Could we take a few more modern shots, please?" Cuddy requested.

"Sure," the photographer replied, "as soon as we finish here."

After they finished the seated photographs, the photographer moved the chair and changed backgrounds. He then took several additional shots. As soon as they were done, House grabbed his cane and practically ran toward the reception area. He was hungry and he really wanted that drink. He was intercepted by Jennifer.

"What now?" he groaned.

"First of all, you should probably wait for your wife, don't you think?" she asked.

"I can't help it that she's so big and slow," House growled.

Jennifer looked at him, trying to figure out if he was kidding or not. She gave up and said, "Well, I think you have to so you can be announced."

"What the?" House said, totally dumbfounded, as Cuddy gave him an eye roll. "What the hell are we, the fucking King and Queen of the Prom?"

"Um, no, but it's kind of customary," Jennifer noted.

"Screw customary!" House roared as he plowed into the room where the reception was, with Cuddy following closely behind him.

As he walked through the door, the DJ they had hired said, "Ladies and Gentleman, Doctor and Mrs. House!"

"Son of a bitch," House muttered as the music played and everyone stood and clapped.

And so, their reception began.

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A/N: I was hoping to get through both the wedding and the reception, but I have a few things more I'd like to do, and I just wanted to get this out. Again, thanks for waiting.


	48. Chapter 48

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but things got busy at home and I wanted to get this done in one chapter, so it took me a while. Thanks for your patience.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc., Except OCs**

As the applause died down, House headed immediately toward the bar. He got a bourbon for himself and a club soda with lime for Cuddy. Since the wedding was so small, they decided that they could all sit at one table. In order to facilitate conversation, Jennifer had suggested a U-shaped table, with Wilson, House Cuddy, and Rachael sitting at the bottom of the "U." On the side next to Rachael were Blythe, Cameron (since she had met Blythe once), Randy, Chase, Foreman and Hadley. On the other side, Andie sat next to Wilson, then Catia, Taub, his wife, and the judge's wife, who, it turned out, knew Taub's wife because they served on the same charity board, and then the judge himself.

"We missed the hors d'oeuvres," House groused. "And I'm starving. I don't suppose they're bringing our food any time soon."

"The appetizer should be here momentarily," Cuddy responded. "Just hang on."

"Is it anything good?" House asked.

"Wilson and Andie picked out the menu, so it should be excellent," Cuddy attempted to reassure him.

"God, no ferns, I hope," House exclaimed.

"I considered it," Wilson replied, "but they're out of season now."

"Gee, that's a shame," House said sarcastically. "So, will it be poison ivy salad instead?"

"No," Wilson replied. "I didn't think you and Cuddy wanted blistered tongues on your honeymoon."

"There are children here," Andie admonished.

"Hey, after what he said at the wedding, this is pretty tame," Wilson said, trying to justify his comment.

"What kind of argument is that?" Andie asked. "I know what I said was bad, but what he said was worse . . . since when did this become the second grade?"

"Second grade is actually pretty mature for them," Cuddy interjected. "I'll never forget the time they decided to drop water balloons off the balcony between their offices while we were having a dedication ceremony in the courtyard below for someone who had donated money for a wing in the hospital."

"Hey, it wasn't our fault that the rich old geezer decided to marry a hot young babe who happened to be wearing a t-shirt," House stated. "And, you'll be happy to know that, despite his otherwise total non-athleticism, Wilson has very good aim when it comes to water balloons and certain parts of the female anatomy."

Andie sighed. "Is there any man who doesn't channel his inner seven-year-old?"

With the exception of Randy, every male at the table said "no" in unison.

Finally, the food began to arrive.

"So, where are you going on your honeymoon?" Farnsworth asked.

"Hilton Head," Cuddy replied.

"Is it going to be warm enough this time of year?" the Judge inquired.

"We considered other places that might be warmer, but because of how far along I am, we didn't want to risk flying, and we don't have the time to drive to Florida," Cuddy explained.

"Cripples don't really enjoy long walks on the beach," House commented with a mouthful of salad. "And since we probably won't be leaving the hotel room, the weather isn't really a concern, anyway."

Cuddy shot House a warning glance. "I'm sure the weather will be nice enough for sightseeing. I've always wanted to see Charleston."

"If you go there, make sure you take the boat out to Fort Sumter," Andie suggested, her excitement about anything historical displaying itself on her face. "There's one park ranger there who knows an almost a minute-by-minute account of everything that happened from the beginning of March 1861 until the Confederates took the fort in April. The last time I went, I must have talked to him for three hours. It was fascinating."

"Wow, you must be a ton of fun on vacation," House stated. "You sound like you really know how to get your geek on."

"I'm a history professor," Andie replied unapologetically. "It's an occupational hazard."

The entrée arrived. It was filet and lobster. "How are we affording surf and turf for sixteen?" House asked Cuddy.

"Well, it's a lot cheaper than chicken for 150," Cuddy replied. "Quit complaining."

House had stopped complaining, mostly because he was stuffing his face with food.

After dessert was finished, it was time for the Best Man's toast.

Wilson stood up behind his seat. "I've known House and Cuddy for fifteen years, and I always thought they should be together. They have so much in common. They are both strong-willed, convinced that they are right, and willing to go around, under and through any obstacle in their path. In short, they are both pains in the ass." Wilson paused for effect. "And yet, I love them both. Cuddy is the sister I never had, and House is the brother I never wanted." Another pause. "So, here's to Greg and Lisa, may they have many years to drive each other crazy, just so those of us who know them get to watch the show."

Everyone raised their glasses and drank, with Cuddy and Cameron taking only a tiny sip.

"Well that moved me about as much as my last poop," House commented as Wilson sat down.

"Are you trying to say I'm full of shit?" Wilson asked.

"You know, you can be rather perceptive -- every ten years or so," House replied.

The music had not been playing during dinner at Cuddy's request. She had been to enough events where the music was so loud it killed all conversation and she just didn't want that at her wedding. The DJ returned and another moment House had been dreading was about to happen.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the DJ began, "The bride and groom will now have their first dance as a married couple."

House and Cuddy got up and went to the dance floor.

Andie had moved from the table over to the microphone. As the music played, Andie sang:

_I'm gonna love you, like nobody's loved you  
Come rain or come shine  
High as a mountain, deep as a river  
Come rain or come shine  
I guess when you met me  
It was just one of those things  
But don't you ever bet me  
'Cause I'm gonna be true if you let me  
You're gonna love me, like nobody's loved me  
Come rain or come shine  
We'll be happy together, unhappy together  
Now won't that be just fine  
The days may be cloudy or sunny  
We're in or out of the money  
But I'm with you always  
I'm with you rain or shine_*

House had his arms around Cuddy, with his hands placed on her bare back. Cuddy had her arms around House's neck. They stared into each other's eyes as they swayed almost imperceptibly to the music. House bent down and touched his forehead to Cuddy's. They began to give each other a series of soft kisses, finally culminating in one deep, long kiss. They continued to press their foreheads together, hugging each other tightly as the song finished.

"The bride and groom both requested this song, and ask that you join them on the dance floor," the DJ announced.

Blythe remained at the table with the children as the opening chords of "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You"** accompanied all the couples out on to the dance floor. After the song was finished, House and Cuddy retreated back to the table to rest. The DJ played a three or four fast songs, and the children left the table to go out and "dance" to the music. House's leg was starting to hurt again, and he took some pain meds knowing that he still had to dance at least one more time with his mom. The DJ took a short break and then asked for the groom and his mother and the bride and her father to go to the dance floor. Cuddy was saddened by the announcement until the Judge came and led her to the dance floor.

After that was over, House felt a tremendous sense of relief. All the opportunities to embarrass himself dancing were over. He talked with Cuddy and Wilson and waited for the cake.

About twenty or thirty minutes later, a slow song was playing. Rachael approached House. "What's up, kid?" House asked. "Your mom can bring you to the bathroom, if you need to go."

Rachael looked down and scuffed the toe of her shoe against the floor. "W-would you d-dance with me?" she stammered.

"I'm kinda tired and my leg hurts," House said, hoping to convince her to go away. "Why don't you ask Wilson?"

"Uncle James is my uncle," Rachael responded. "He's not my . . . my . . . damn!" Rachael's lower lip began to quiver and she looked down as tears started down her cheeks.

House didn't know what to do. When she looked up at him again with her tear-stained face, House thought he would lose it, too. He remembered he had promised himself he would make it up to her. This was his chance.

"If you stop the waterworks, I'll dance with you," he told her.

Rachael smiled and quickly wiped her face with the backs of her hands. When she took House's hand in hers to lead him to the dance floor, he felt a little dampness from her tears. At that moment, he felt another wall crumble inside him. If he ever had any doubts, he knew he would love her as his own child from that moment.

When he looked back on the day in later years, he didn't remember anything about the dance itself --- what music was playing, or how long it took. What he did remember was what happened after. They went back to the table. House sat down and Rachael stood in front of him.

"Thanks," she said softly. She tried to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. House didn't know what came over him, but he pulled her on to his lap and held her against him. He kissed the top of her head and her face. "I love you, baby girl," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she said, kissing his face and putting her arms around his neck.

Wilson was talking to Cuddy. She stopped and began looking across the room. Her eyes filled with tears.

"What?" Wilson asked.

Cuddy pointed to House and Rachael and smiled.

After he got over the shock, Wilson's second reaction was to think of the ridicule potential. He decided he could put his energy to better use. He excused himself and went to ask Catia to dance.

Jennifer approached Cuddy and told her it was time to cut the cake. By the time Cuddy made it back to the table to tell House, Rachael had gone back to dancing, this time with Randy.

"It's cake time," Cuddy informed House, not looking forward to his reaction. The music had stopped and everyone was returning to the table.

"I assume the DJ is tied up out back so he won't be able to do any cringe-worthy musical accompaniment," House stated.

"I sent him on an errand to Philadelphia," Cuddy responded.

"Good enough," House acknowledged.

The cake had been wheeled out on a large table. Cuddy and House stood behind it and they were handed a knife. They made one cut and then Jennifer took the knife.

"Hey, aren't we actually going to cut this?" House asked.

"Our part is symbolic," Cuddy replied. "They let professionals actually cut the pieces."

"If I were a surgeon, I'd be insulted," House stated.

Before House had the opportunity to make further comments, Jennifer held a small plate in front of him containing a tiny piece of cake to feed to Cuddy. He debated smashing it into her face, but decided he really didn't want to spend the first three days of the honeymoon without sex. He cupped her chin in his hand and delicately placed the cake near her mouth. She nibbled it gently. As with all things involving Lisa Cuddy's mouth, House found it extremely erotic.

Next, it was Cuddy's turn. She also debated smashing the cake into House's face, especially since he couldn't retaliate. She decided he had had enough assaults on his dignity today, what with the hugging and kissing on the receiving line, and having to dance with her, his mom and Rachael. The fact that he seemed totally unselfconscious when he was kissing Rachael was amazing. Cuddy thought she should encourage those kinds of displays by not making a spectacle of him over a silly piece of cake. She held up the cake and House sunk his teeth into it. Some frosting wound up on his lips and he turned away from the guests and made an exaggerated licking motion with his tongue that only Cuddy saw. She giggled, and they turned back as everyone sat down to eat their cake.

After that, there was more dancing and socializing. The first guest to leave was House's mom because she had a plane to catch. The judge and his wife volunteered to take her to the airport.

"Could I stay for a while when the baby is born to help you out, Lisa?" Blythe asked.

"Well, we do have a guest room, and I think I would like the help," Cuddy said, remembering how overwhelmed she felt when she first brought Rachael home.

House was about to object that it would cramp his style when he realized he wasn't going to get any sex for several weeks after the baby was born. He reluctantly agreed.

Randy had started to get a little hyperactive, so Chase and Cameron knew he was overtired and left next. They were quickly followed by Foreman and Hadley (as usual, Foreman was concerned that Hadley would get too fatigued). Taub and his wife left shortly afterward.

Rachael was going to spend the ten days at Andie's house, so she could get on the school bus in a more-or-less normal routine. Wilson had agreed to stay over for the week, supposedly so Rachael wouldn't feel as lonely, but, of course, House had his suspicions that there were other reasons, which he didn't (or couldn't) keep to himself.

House and Cuddy were staying at the hotel and leaving in the morning on their road trip. They said goodbye to Catia, Andie and Wilson, who waited outside the bridal suite for Rachael.

"I'll miss you, sweetie," Cuddy said as she kissed Rachael goodbye. As much as she was looking forward to the time away with House, especially before the baby arrived, she hadn't spent more than four or five days away from Rachael since Rachael came home from the hospital. She promised herself she wouldn't cry, mostly to keep Rachael from becoming upset.

House was sitting on a chair in the suite when Rachael approached. Although he was anxious to get Cuddy alone, he felt an emotional tug he couldn't describe. "Make sure you drive Wilson crazy, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, without much enthusiasm. "I'll miss you."

"Same here," House said.

Rachael put her arms around House's neck. "Take care of mommy," she said. "I love you very much."

"I love you very much," House replied. He hoped that she didn't hear the catch in his voice.

She opened the door and went with Wilson, Andie and Catia. They waved goodbye and went down the corridor and on to the elevator. Cuddy and House waited in the hall until the elevator doors closed.

* * *

*Johnny Mercer, Harold Arlen

**Van Morrison


	49. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc., Except OCs**

They went back into the room. Cuddy expected House to rip off her clothes, push her on the bed and take her. She was surprised when he sat back down in the chair.

"I thought you said that if you figured out why we were getting married, you would know what to say at the wedding," House stated.

"I did say that," Cuddy admitted.

"I'm confused," House said. "I didn't think what you said had anything to do with that."

"It did, a little," Cuddy responded. "The part about you letting me in . . . "

"How can seeing every ugly thing I have inside me make you want to stay with me?" House asked incredulously.

"This is why I want to stay!" Cuddy exclaimed. "How can you _not_ know about every incredible, exquisite thing inside of you!" She was almost shouting now. "Dammit, House. It's awful enough that you think no one loves you. It's even worse that you think no one _could_ love you. I love you, and I don't care if I have to spend the rest of my life proving it to you!"

House stepped back, and Cuddy wasn't sure if what she said had shocked or upset him. She took a couple of steps toward him and he raised his hands to stop her. Cuddy really couldn't tell what was going on because he was looking down at the floor. She did become aware of his ragged breathing. He turned away from her and she saw his shoulders heaving. She looked down and noticed small drops of moisture falling on to the carpet. She put her hands on his back and he turned around and buried his face into her shoulder. His sobs became audible.

She pulled him over to the bed and they sat down. Cuddy wasn't sure how long he cried, and she didn't care. She cried right along with him. Cuddy didn't know why they were crying. Chase and Wilson had said they were kidding when they hugged House, but she knew House loved both Wilson and Chase, and House wasn't one to take physical affection lightly. Even though she had no regrets about not inviting her family, she still missed her parents and her sister. House had to deal with his mother, which no doubt brought memories of John to the surface. And then there was House and Rachael – House allowing his love for her to be seen publicly and Cuddy observing it. All in all, the day had been very emotional for both of them.

When she was able to pull herself together, she noticed House's breathing had evened out. She got up and went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth with warm water and washed her face. She rinsed out the washcloth, ran it under the warm water again and came out and washed House's face.

After she was finished, she tossed the washcloth in the bathroom and returned to the room. She removed her clothes and put them in a bag that Jennifer was going to collect, along with House's tux, to be returned to Andie and Wilson so they wouldn't have to bring their wedding clothes on the trip. She wasted no time in taking all House's clothes off and putting them in the bag as well.

"Is it okay if I just touch you for a little while?" she asked House. He nodded affirmatively. Her touch was a combination of a caress and a light massage. She touched him everywhere. She paid special attention to his scars. The one on his nose that he never explained, the ones on the soles of his feet from John's abuse, the ones from the gunshot wounds, and the one from his infarction. "I love these scars," she murmured.

House came out of his haze slightly at that comment. "Why?" he asked.

"They remind me that you've suffered and survived. That you can overcome pain and go on living. That you can endure and still love. That my children and I are the luckiest people on the planet to have you in our lives."

House looked at her with watery blue eyes. "Could you keep touching me, for just a little longer?" he asked in almost a whisper.

"I don't think anyone can stop me," she replied gently. She knew it was huge that House had asked for something that gave him pleasure and comfort. That he thought it was okay to want that. The fact that she most emphatically wanted to continue touching him was just a side benefit, or so she convinced herself.

She continued for a long while, maybe an hour. They were both completely turned inside out at this point and also totally aroused. They turned to face each other and did their peculiar Cuddy-seven-months-pregnant-House's-bad-leg dance between the sheets.

Their orgasms this time were not as intense as they had sometimes been, but they were full of the deepest emotion they had yet experienced. Cuddy wasn't sure how many newlyweds felt this way on their wedding night, but, then again, how many newlyweds waited twenty-five years to be together?

They ended the night spooning together, the picture of married contentment.

* * *

After they left the hotel, Wilson and Andie debated going somewhere to eat since everyone was dressed up, but no one was hungry, so they decided to go home. Andie always had food in the house if anyone wanted anything later in the evening. They stopped and rented both Stuart Little movies for the girls. They considered renting Dead Poets Society for themselves, but settled on Peter's Friends and The Girl from Rio.

When they arrived home, they had the girls get into their pajamas and made them some popcorn to eat while they watched the first Stuart Little movie. It wasn't that late, but both the girls were very tired, and fell asleep as the movie ended. Wilson carried both of them to bed.

Wilson and Andie changed into the equivalent of their pajamas (flannel pants and a t-shirt for Wilson, and a nightshirt for Andie). Andie made some more popcorn and they settled in to watch Peter's Friends.

They were enjoying themselves getting nostalgic with all the eighties music, when Wilson became uncomfortable with the scene where Roger and Mary confronted each other about their son who died from SIDS. Wilson paused the DVD. "Do you want to fast forward through this?" he asked.

"No, it's okay," Andie replied. "Unlike real life, they actually resolve their differences."

Wilson hit the play button and the scene continued.

"You can pause it here," Andie said, as the scene showing Roger and Mary asleep in each other's arms came on. She stared at it for a couple of minutes.

"Do you wish that happened to you?" Wilson asked.

"You mean that I got to sleep with a naked Hugh Laurie?" Andie asked. "Yeah, that is one of my fantasies."

"Uh, no . . . " Wilson stammered.

"I know what you are asking," she jumped in. "I guess it would have been good if my ex and I had been able to come to terms with Jake's death together, but I don't think we were capable of doing that."

"Why not?" Wilson asked gently.

"Maybe because I didn't actually love him," Andie confessed. "He was a nice guy that I married because I thought I was supposed to, and because I had no family and thought I could create one of my own. So, when things became stressful, it all just fell apart."

"Are you with me because I'm a nice guy?" Wilson asked.

"When I'm in bed with you, James Wilson," Andie responded, "there is nothing 'nice' at all about it. In fact, it's very naughty."

Wilson smiled in spite of himself. "No, what I meant was . . . "

Andie interrupted him. "I know what you meant. You are not just another nice guy, at least to me. You have the most amazingly complex problems and flaws. They take my breath away they're so beautiful."

Wilson had no idea how to respond. Someone found his faults beautiful? How was that possible? "I don't understand, how can you love _flaws_?"

"People's strengths are impressive, wonderful, blah, blah, blah," Andie said with a dismissive wave. "But their flaws are what make them interesting and truly human."

"And I've got some seriously large flaws, eh?" Wilson asked, smiling.

"I bet mine are even worse," Andie replied in a mock competitive tone.

"That must be why I love you so much," Wilson said. He hadn't intended that the first time he told her they would be teasing each other, but it was out and he couldn't take it back now. He waited anxiously for her reaction.

"I love you, too," she said very softly.

Wilson breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you want to watch the rest of the movie or . . . " He motioned with this head toward the bedroom.

"It would be pretty lame to declare our love and then go back to the movie, like we just stepped out to the lobby for more popcorn," Andie agreed. "Turn it off and let's go!"

Wilson did as he was told and they headed for the bedroom. He thought he might really enjoy the next ten days.


	50. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer: Don't Own etc.**

House woke up as the light streamed in to the room. Cuddy was still asleep and he thought he might get up and go in the sitting room of the suite and watch TV. He started to look at her face and he changed his mind. His thoughts drifted to the previous night. It had been so emotionally and physically intense, and also completely fulfilling. House didn't know when he became so needy when it came to being touched. He probably always needed it, but he'd just denied himself for so long.

He remembered a time about three years after Stacy left. For some reason, House felt particularly lonely. He thought he could get rid of the pain by hiring a hooker. The sex was pretty good, and House should have left it at that. But because of how he felt, he asked the woman to touch him for a while. She did, and it was great. However, after she left, it hit him that the intimacy was just an illusion. It resulted in an emotional crash that left him devastated. He spent the rest of the weekend drinking and getting high. He walled himself off from all physical contact after that, unless it was purely sexual. He could still remember that longing ache.

He looked down at Cuddy again. Was it really possible that this amazing woman would want to touch him from now on? House hadn't had much good fortune in his life, but at this moment, he felt like the luckiest person alive. He slid over next to Cuddy and put his arms around her. She started to wake up. House noticed her first instinct was to pull him closer.

"Mmm," she said sleepily. "Good morning."

"Good morning," House responded. He felt the baby moving as their abdomens touched. "Was he active last night? How do you sleep when he is moving around?"

"You get used to it," she answered. "In fact, it bothers me more when he's quiet."

There was a knock on the door. Cuddy got up and grabbed a bathrobe. After a couple of minutes, a hotel employee entered the bedroom carrying a large tray.

"Did you order room service?" Cuddy asked.

House shook his head.

The employee noticed their confusion and checked the bill. "Oh, this is from Wilson and Andie," he read. "They say to wish you a . . . " he squinted, "Happy Morning After."

The employee smiled and left quickly.

"I wonder what they ordered," House said. "Probably pine cones or some other inedible form of plant life."

"Hey, I thought you wouldn't care as long as you didn't have to pay for it," Cuddy remarked. "We have a long drive today, and I'd like to get going, so let's eat."

When they removed the covers from the plates they found pancakes, French toast, bacon, scrambled eggs, and fruit. There was also juice and coffee.

After they finished, House hit the shower first, while Cuddy collected things from their room. (House had suggested saving time by showering together, but Cuddy knew the opposite would happen, and they would never get going.)

House got dressed and had someone from the hotel staff bring most of the luggage down to the lobby while Cuddy showered and got dressed.

They were checked out and on the road by 9:30. Since neither House's leg nor Cuddy's pregnancy-challenged bladder could be in a car for twelve hours at a stretch, they had decided to break up the trip and use two days for driving. The first day they would go as far as Rocky Mount, North Carolina, and the second day they would arrive at Hilton Head. Counting pit stops and stopping for lunch, they figured that would be about seven hours' traveling each day.

As they pulled out of the hotel parking lot, Cuddy retrieved a file containing printouts of mapquest directions to their hotels in North Carolina and in Hilton Head.

"Doesn't this car have a GPS?" House asked.

"Yes," Cuddy replied.

"Then why did you print out all that stuff?" House asked.

"Just in case it goes down," Cuddy replied. "Besides, I like looking at actual maps every once in a while."

"Left by the side of the road during one of the family road trips when you were a kid?" House asked sarcastically.

"No, but there were times I wish they had," Cuddy replied. "My dad was okay, but my mom couldn't read a map to save her life, and she insisted on telling my dad where to go."

"I knew there was a reason I empathized with the man," House interjected. "So your ability to tell me where to go is inherited from your mom?"

"Don't insult me by comparing me to my mother," Cuddy replied. "And my sister whined incessantly from the time we got in the car until we got to our destination."

"That doesn't surprise me," House stated. "So, she was born with her annoying personality, then?"

"She wasn't bad until she learned to speak," Cuddy said. "It was all downhill from there. How were your family vacations?"

"We never took any," House replied. "With moving so much, traveling was hardly a novelty for us. Besides, if anything even hinted at being fun, John was against it."

"Why?" Cuddy asked.

"He said it didn't build character to enjoy oneself," House answered. "So, of course, since I'm the rebellious type, I turned into an absolute hedonist."

"So, that's why you're so good in bed?" Cuddy asked. "I guess I should thank John for something."

"Don't." House replied. "If he had known, he would have beaten it out of me, literally . . . "

Cuddy knew enough not to express sympathy. If they weren't driving, she would have smothered his face in kisses. Since she couldn't do that, she simply put her hand against House's cheek. He pressed the side of his face into her hand for a second, still and forever enjoying her touch.

They drove until about one-thirty, when House's stomach began to make really loud noises.

"Time to stop, yes?" Cuddy asked rhetorically. She had also begun to worry that the driving would fatigue House's leg. She decided that after lunch she would drive the rest of the way to their hotel. "Where do you want to eat?"

"As long as there is animal protein involved, I don't care," House responded.

"If you want to be around to watch your kids grow up, we really have to get serious about your diet," Cuddy stated.

"Yeah, 'cause it's my _diet _that's going to do me in." House said, rolling his eyes.

Since they didn't want to venture too far from the highway, they were limited to fast food and chains. They decided on a Subway shop attached to a gas station – Cuddy for the possibility of somewhat healthy food, and House for, as he put it, "the ambience."

They ordered their lunch – a turkey sub on whole wheat with vegetables for Cuddy, and an Italian mixed sub with provolone and chips for House.

"This table looks reasonably clean," Cuddy remarked as they sat down.

"Wilson would have scrubbed it down with anti-bacterial wipes," House commented.

"I wonder how they're doing," Cuddy said. "Maybe I should call."

"Don't," House said. "I'm sure everything's fine."

"It's Sunday, so Andie must be having her rehearsal right about now," Cuddy stated. "I hope Rachael is enjoying it."

"She's more of a blues girl, I think. At least that's what she likes to play on the piano," House said with obvious pride.

"Some of those songs are a little raw and raunchy," Cuddy observed. "You're not teaching her anything inappropriate are you, House?"

"You know me, Cuddy – Gregory House, Responsible Parent-Like Figure," House replied.

"I guess I'd better pay a little more attention to your lessons," Cuddy noted.

"You're not doing her any favors by shielding her from the rougher aspects of life, you know," House commented. "She's going to have to learn about it sooner or later."

"I know," Cuddy admitted. "I just want to spare her pain."

"Understandable," House said, "But not realistic. Life is full of pain . . . "

Cuddy got up from her side of the booth and sat down next to House. She put her arms around him, kissed him on the cheek and put her head on his shoulder.

"Nothing like a make-out session at the gas station. It's just so trashy." As usual, House was using humor to allay his discomfort with the PDA. Cuddy noticed he didn't do anything to stop her or end it, though.

"We should get going if we want to get to North Carolina at a reasonable hour," Cuddy sighed. She really could have sat with him another hour like that, at least. She promised herself she would do that when they got to Hilton Head, provided they had time between the sexual encounters. She smiled involuntarily.

House noticed her smile. "What?"

"I was just realizing that we are on our honeymoon, with all that entails . . . " Cuddy replied.

"You mean lots and lots of sex?" House's face had an evil grin.

"Until we're panting and weak, I hope." Cuddy said with an equally wicked grin.

"Let's get going, then!" House exclaimed with enthusiasm.


	51. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

They pulled into the hotel parking lot at Rocky Mount at about six-thirty. Ordinarily, they would have stayed at one of the less expensive chains, but with neither House nor Cuddy being able to do a lot of heavy lifting with their luggage, they decided to splurge on a more full-service hotel.

After the staff got the luggage settled in the room, and they had unpacked a little, they decided to go out for dinner. They went to the front desk to ask for suggestions.

"What do you like to eat?" the young woman behind the desk asked.

"Well, I could go for Thai," Cuddy said, "Or, better yet, Indian."

"We're in a small town south of the Mason-Dixon Line, Cuddy," House interjected. "The odds of finding anything ethnic are slim to none. What about barbecue?"

"That's kind of messy, isn't it?" Cuddy asked.

"North Carolina barbecue is mostly pulled pork, so you can eat that with a fork," The desk clerk added helpfully.

"Pork?" Cuddy asked with concern. "I don't usually eat pork."

"You're not going Kosher on me, are you, Cuddy?" House mocked.

"No," Cuddy replied. "But I'm just not sure how healthy it is."

"Hey, it's the other white meat!" House exclaimed.

"Most places have chicken, too," the desk clerk added. This couple had only been in the hotel for half an hour and she was already exhausted by them. At least they were only staying one night.

"I'm not sure that eating chicken with skin and a heavy sauce will be much better," Cuddy said.

"There is one place nearby with a salad bar," the desk clerk stated wearily.

"Sold!" House said. They got directions and headed out.

The place had a slightly more upscale vibe than the gas station they had eaten at for lunch, but it was still paper napkins, order on one line and pick up at the other. Much to Cuddy's surprise, House paid for dinner with no protest. They found a table and went to the salad bar as their food was being prepared.

Before long, their number was called and House went to pick up the food. Cuddy wasn't sure how he would handle the tray with the cane, but he insisted. She thought she saw him put something in his jacket pocket before he picked up the tray, but she wasn't sure. She was more intrigued with how he managed to get the tray to the table without dropping it. He had used one hand for the cane and carried the heavy tray with the other. If Cuddy ever needed a reminder that his upper body was incredibly strong, this was it. Her mind drifted to how she would use that knowledge during the honeymoon. Oh, the possibilities.

House had ordered the combination pulled pork and chicken, and Cuddy had the chicken. She had to admit the sauce was really good, a combination of sweet, tangy and spicy. House had decided to abandon any semblance of manners and ate all his meat with his hands. As a result, they became covered in sauce. When he had finished, since manners were out the window, instead of using napkins to wipe his hands, he simply licked his fingers.

Cuddy was about to protest this significant breech of etiquette, when she observed how incredibly sexy it was. She stared, unable to take her eyes off his tongue gliding along his long, slender fingers. _Boy, it's getting hot in here_, she thought.

"Ready to go?" House asked. Of course, he had seen Cuddy watching him and had observed her avid interest. He could hardly wait to get back to their hotel room.

Cuddy came out of her daze. "Sure," she replied. She had an idea this was going to be an interesting evening.

They returned to the hotel room, and House went to get some ice. When he got back to the room, Cuddy was in the bathroom.

"Are we in for the night?" House asked as he put out the Do Not Disturb sign and bolted the door.

"I hope so," Cuddy said, emerging from the bathroom. In her pregnant state, House didn't expect Cuddy to be able to wear any sexy lingerie, so he was completely surprised when he saw her. She was wearing black silk stockings held up by a garter belt that dipped below her belly. On top, she had a loose, but completely see-through black baby doll nightie.

House almost dropped the ice bucket, but he recovered in time to put in on the counter over the minibar. He quickly slipped his jacket over the desk chair and practically lunged towards Cuddy. His lips hungrily found hers as his hands reached under her nightgown and began to caress her sides and back. Cuddy returned his kiss and felt her body shiver under his touch. They continued kissing until they ran out of oxygen. House moved Cuddy over to the bed and she lay down. He lifted up her nightgown and began to draw circles around her nipples with his tongue. Because of all the pregnancy hormones, Cuddy's nipples were extremely sensitive. House's soft licks were sweet agony. Her body began to rock back and forth, and her eyes were closed. House stopped and reached toward the nightstand. Cuddy felt House gently rubbing something on her pussy lips and her clit. It simply felt wet at first, but then it began to tingle. House began to lick her lips slowly. He seemed to be avoiding her clit, which had gone from tingling to a burn. Cuddy wanted to squirm, but House had a firm grip on her legs.

"House!" Cuddy yelled as the burn intensified. "Get it off me!"

"Are you sure?" House asked, prolonging her torment.

"Now!" she commanded.

"You have to ask nicely," he continued to tease.

"Please, House," she begged.

"That's' better," House replied as his tongue found its way to her clit. She went from the torturous burn of the sauce to the exquisite relief of his tongue to the most incredible stimulation she had ever felt, all in a matter of less than a minute.

"Don't stop," she pleaded with the last words her brain were capable of forming.

He kept licking her until she lost control completely. Her entire body convulsed. She was panting and everything below her pelvis felt like it had turned to jelly.

Cuddy opened her eyes to find House grinning at her. He placed the palm of his hand under the bottom of one of her feet and began kissing the top of it. "Did you know that your toes actually curled?"

"Umm," was about the only thing Cuddy was capable of saying at that point. She sighed and looked at him, her eyes filled with bliss.

He slid back up and kissed her face and pulled her into his arms.

It took a few minutes for Cuddy to recover. When she did, she could feel a bulge in his jeans pressing into her leg.

She pulled off his t-shirt and got his jeans undone and pulled them off along with his boxers.

She began stroking him. "Poor Little Greg, did you think I would neglect you?"

"You know, when you start talking to my penis that's a sign that . . . mmuuph," House lost his ability to form words as Cuddy began to lick his balls.

Her tongue slid up the underside of his penis. Cuddy looked up at Greg's face and saw his gorgeous blue eyes completely glazed over. She continued licking his balls and the underside of his penis until he became fully erect.

She slid his foreskin back and began licking his tip. House continued to make unintelligible noises. His penis was straining against her grip. Cuddy had a hand on his abdomen and felt his muscles contracting. Since she didn't want him to come in her hand, she took his penis into her mouth. She wasn't sure she could take in his entire length, but she was certainly going to try. She slid up and down several times until she knew he was starting to come. She felt his hot sperm hitting the back of her throat. She continued to swallow until he was done.

House felt every nerve ending reacting. At the moment, he had no pain in his leg, or anywhere else in his body, for that matter. He was on one of the most blissful endorphin highs of his life. He felt his senses slowly returning.

"To hell with pain meds, they need to bottle this," he said softly.

"Should I pay someone to come in once or twice a week?" Cuddy asked, making what she thought was a joke.

House didn't take it that way. "It only works for me if it's the woman I love," he confessed shyly. "No one else can do this to me."

The openness of his expression of love caught Cuddy completely off guard. She didn't want to cry, but she couldn't stop the tears form forming and sliding down her cheeks.

House pulled her into his arms. She lay on her side next to him, with her head resting on his shoulder and her belly resting over his abdomen. House's hand found its way down and began caressing her. The baby immediately moved more slowly, as if being calmed by his father's touch. Sleep came for both of them shortly afterward.


	52. Chapter 52

A/N: Sorry about the delay, but I've been busy and I have also hit another spell of writer's block. Thanks for your patience and if anyone is borrowing my muse, please send her back!

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc**.

House began to wake up when he felt something poking him in the back. He tried to go back to sleep, but it happened a second time. After the third time, he was pretty close to being wide awake and he had figured out that Cuddy was lying with her abdomen touching his back and the baby was kicking her and he was feeling it. He turned over carefully, trying not to wake Cuddy.

He lightly placed his hand on her belly. Medically, he knew exactly what was happening. After all, he had mocked any expectant father he ever met who expressed awe over feeling his child move in its mother's uterus. Now that it was his child, he felt a little differently. Not awestruck (he would never admit that), but, curious, yes, that was it. Cuddy was far enough along that he had begun to allow himself to wonder what the baby would be like. Hopefully, the baby would have Cuddy's hair, so he wouldn't have to worry about going bald. Not that House worried about that, of course, because that would mean he cared what other people thought. But, still.

As he felt the movement, Cuddy began to wake up. "He's pretty active today," She murmured, stretching out her arms and legs.

"Do you think we have time for a quickie?" House asked, staring down at her naked body. (They woke up during the night and had sex, and Cuddy's hose, garter and nightgown wound up on the floor.)

"I'd like to get going so we get to the next hotel at a reasonable hour," Cuddy said.

"_Oh_-kayy . . . " House responded like a disappointed child.

"I'll make it up to you when we get to Hilton Head," Cuddy promised.

"Sex on the beach?" House asked expectantly.

"Absolutely," Cuddy replied

They showered, dressed, and ate a large breakfast. Cuddy, at least, was hoping to avoid another gas station meal.

They were on the road by nine. Most of the remainder of the trip was on I-95, which was fast, but also terribly boring.

Cuddy had not allowed House to bring his ipod, since she didn't want him spending hours tuned out. They listened to the radio for a while, but most of the stations played country music, which House had a limited tolerance for. After about a half-hour, including some intense but unsuccessful searching for a station that played anything else, he snapped it off in frustration.

"I think we're going to have to talk," Cuddy said. "To each other."

"Oh, man," House groaned. "Alright, what do you want to talk about?"

"Well, I know that sex is your favorite topic, but, since you're a man and can't multitask, I don't want to distract you from driving," Cuddy stated.

"That's rather sexist, don't you think?" House said in a mock-hurt tone.

"Well, when it comes to sexism, you're the expert," Cuddy responded.

"Touché," House replied. "What else? If I were with Wilson, we could talk about monster trucks, WWF, The "L" Word, and which nurses are most 'doable.'"

"What?" Cuddy asked angrily. "You're married and Wilson's in a committed relationship and you still talk about 'doing' nurses?"

"Hey, it's not like we'd actually 'do' them," House answered. "It's just sort of a theoretical ranking game."

"Men are pigs," Cuddy stated.

"And your point is?" House asked rhetorically. "Besides, don't tell me you never check out the hunky physical therapists you have on staff."

"Just the male ones," Cuddy admitted.

"Damn," House exclaimed. "There's another fantasy out the window. So, what else do you want to talk about?"

"Well, we can talk about work, or the house," Cuddy said.

"Bor-ring," House responded. "How about gossiping about Wilson and Andie?"

"It doesn't seem like there is much to talk about there," Cuddy replied. "They seem to be getting along pretty well."

""Well, Wilson hasn't married her yet, so that's a good sign," House stated.

"Yeah," Cuddy chuckled. "I don't think she'd get married that fast even if he asked her."

"What is her deal, anyway?" House asked. "I know that her marriage ended badly and her son died, but she seems even more damaged than that."

"I'm sure Wilson has the full story, which I'm surprised he hasn't shared with you," Cuddy said with an eye-roll, "But I think she also had a difficult childhood."

"Abuse?" House asked.

"From what she's said to me, mostly psychological," Cuddy replied. "It sounds like her mother is so bad that she makes mine seem sweet by comparison."

"Wow," House said. "Well, nothing like abuse to screw you up for the rest of your life. It's the gift that keeps on giving."

"She said something like that when she was talking to me about it," Cuddy remarked. "House, do you remember what we said at the wedding?"

"Most of it, at least before the bourbon," House replied sarcastically. "Anything specific?"

"The part about not keeping your pain from me," Cuddy responded.

Since they had just been talking about abuse, House became worried where the conversation might be going. "I thought we were talking about my leg," he deflected.

"You can forget trying to convince me that a man who his so observant of the subtleties of human behavior he can base a correct diagnosis on what a patient _doesn't_ tell him is so obtuse that he can only imagine we were talking about physical pain," Cuddy stated.

"You want me to tell you all about my shitty childhood?" House asked with a flash of anger in his voice. "What the hell is the point of reliving all that crap? It's not going to fix it. Is it so you can pity me?"

Even though House was giving her his usual hard time about anything involving his emotions, Cuddy thought it was significant that he would actually admit to his fear of being pitied. She knew if she expressed sympathy, he would shut down, and the conversation would be over pretty quickly. She decided she would try to speak to his logical side instead.

"Well, for one thing, it would help me to understand you better," Cuddy replied. "And then I wouldn't inadvertently do things that trigger bad memories and upset you."

"Are you going to be beating me with a belt anytime soon, Cuddy? How kinky!" House snarked.

"No, and I don't smoke, so you don't have to worry about any . . . " Cuddy was trying to snark back, but she just couldn't think of anything witty to say about burning someone with a lighted cigarette. "House, how could a parent do that to a child?"

"Well, he wasn't my biological father, so that might have made it easier," House replied.

"Rachael isn't our biological child, and I know you'd do anything to protect her, including lying down in front of train for her," Cuddy responded. "And you would never do anything to hurt her."

"Yeah, well, you didn't have Rachael as the result of an affair while you were married to me," House retorted. He wasn't making excuses for John, he was trying to understand it himself.

"But you would be mad at me, and I know you wouldn't take it out on her!" Cuddy exclaimed.

"She'd be your child, Lisa, how could I?" House asked in his softest voice.

Cuddy gasped. She knew that House loved her. Sometimes she needed to be reminded just how much.

The way Cuddy was looking at him, with all those feelings shining in her eyes, made House uncomfortable. "He was a marine," House offered.

"So, that made him a cruel bastard?" Cuddy asked, puzzled.

"No," House replied. "But I'm pretty sure he had survival training. Maybe he thought the ice baths and making me sleep outside were teaching me to survive."

"And the beatings and cigarette burns?" Cuddy involuntarily winced.

"To make be better able to withstand torture?" House questioned.

"Yeah, because you were really in danger of being tortured by the enemy as an American kid on a U.S. military base in _Japan_," Cuddy said, finding her sarcastic voice.

"I know he expected me to become a marine," House said. "Maybe he thought he would give me an advantage when I went into survival training."

"Most parents just pay for Kaplan courses," Cuddy said sardonically. "At least the ones who aren't sadists."

House smiled slightly, in spite of the seriousness of the topic. "Well, he's dead now, so I guess we'll never get to hear his self-serving justifications. Hey, you invited my mom to stay with us when the baby is born. So, I'm sure you'll get to hear all about John's take on 'discipline.'"

"God, I hope not," Cuddy said.

"Can we talk about something else now?" House asked. "What about the ugliness of your childhood?"

"Well, it can't compare to what happened to you," Cuddy said. "My dad was always great. And my mom wasn't abusive, just misguided. She could never seem to support anything I did."

"Yeah, because who would support a smart, strong, independent, beautiful, funny, accomplished daughter?" House asked sarcastically. "Hey, maybe she wasn't cruel, she was just stupid. Or nuts."

"Um, thanks, I think," Cuddy responded. "The stuff that mattered to her – being socially accepted, keeping up with our neighbors and friends, doing what was 'expected' -- never mattered to me."

"One of many things I love about you, Cuddy," House said lightly. "Hey, you don't suppose it's because she's Jewish, do you? I mean, when she was growing up, anti-Semitism was a lot more prevalent."

"It could be, I suppose," Cuddy replied. "She would never have told me about that because she would have been ashamed of it."

"Ashamed that other people behave like idiots?" House asked incredulously.

"She would have seen it as an attack on her dignity," Cuddy responded. "And that would have made her ashamed."

"I guess I'll never understand your mother," House stated.

"And I'll never understand your father, either," Cuddy countered.

"You're sure you don't want to talk about sex?" House said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Just focus on driving, stud," Cuddy replied.

"Yes, ma'am," House said.


	53. Chapter 53

A/N: I've visited Hilton Head, but I've never stayed there, so I have no idea if a resort like the one I describe in this chapter actually exists. I know there are golf resorts, but I'm not sure there are any on the ocean. The description is based on a resort I stayed at on the west coast of Florida when my husband and I went to a conference. Yes, it was that spectacular. Anyway, sorry this took so long. Writer's block is a, well, it rhymes with rich.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc**.

It was about two in the afternoon when Cuddy and House pulled into the resort at Hilton Head. They had driven straight through, with no lunch and only one pit stop. House was starving, and Cuddy really had to pee. Their luggage was efficiently removed from their trunk, and they handed over their keys to a valet to park the car. Check-in was swift and they were given their room keys. They took the elevator to the tenth floor. House was a little concerned that they were so high up, in case there was a fire (he couldn't exactly get down stairs very quickly).

The room was spacious, with a king size bed and a plasma TV. There was a sitting area, with a loveseat and a coffee table. The room also had a kitchenette and a minibar. The bathroom was huge, with a large, walk-in shower and a whirlpool tub that would accommodate two. Cuddy literally ran into the small room inside the bathroom where the toilet was and relieved herself. She gloried in most aspects of her pregnancy, but this business of having the equivalent of a weighted basketball pressing down on her bladder, making her need to pee constantly, well, that was one thing she wouldn't miss once she gave birth

Cuddy emerged from the bathroom and House was nowhere to be seen. She saw the door leading to the balcony was open. She found House leaning against the balcony railing. The concern House had about being on the tenth floor was set aside when he saw the view. It looked out over the beach, and you could see out into the ocean for at least a couple of miles. There was a cool breeze, and the smell of the ocean was all around him. Cuddy walked over to him and put her arm around his waist. House put his arm around her shoulders and they stood there.

"Not too shabby, huh?" House asked.

"Imagine what it will be like tonight, with the beach and the sound of the ocean and any lights out there," Cuddy said, pointing out to sea.

"Too bad the balcony is concrete," House observed. "I'd like to have sex out here."

"Well, there have to be at least ten pillows on that bed, and I bet there are a few more in the closet," Cuddy offered.

"Ah, Cuddy, ever the problem-solver," House said with both sarcasm and appreciation.

"I'm going to call the front desk and make sure they send us a couple more blankets, just in case it's cold tonight," Cuddy stated.

At this point, House's stomach began to rumble. Loudly. "Hey, can we get something for lunch?" he almost begged.

"One of the restaurants in the hotel is a sports bar, so they should have the greasy food you love," Cuddy noted.

They went downstairs and ate lunch. Since it was so late, they figured they would skip dinner tonight and order something from room service if they got hungry later. They also made a reservation at the more formal restaurant in the hotel for the next evening, and noted the hours for breakfast the next day.

"Do you want to talk to the concierge about anything we want to do while we're here?" Cuddy asked as they walked by the desk.

"I just drove five hours, I've had a huge lunch, and we drove seven hours the day before," House responded. "The only decision I want to make right now is whether to have sex-sleep-have sex-sleep, or if I should change the order to sleep-have sex-sleep-have sex."

"Just checking, but I'm the one you plan to have sex with, am I correct?" Cuddy inquired.

"Yes," House answered emphatically.

"Well, then, I vote for sleep-have sex-sleep-have sex," Cuddy stated. As the pregnancy progressed, she became increasingly tired. Not that she really slept that well any more. Still, a late afternoon nap sounded so wonderful and decadent--nothing she would ever do on a Monday in her real life.

"I'll take it under advisement," House replied. For whatever reason, his leg wasn't giving him too much trouble, and that was the best time for him to get some sleep.

They had reached the room at this point. Cuddy used her room key and opened the door. House slipped the Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle, just in case some idiot maid decided that she would get a bigger tip if she provided turn-down service. Those chocolate mint-thins they put on the pillows were an abomination. He also bolted the door, to be sure to avoid any interruptions.

Cuddy was in the bathroom. House heard the water running, then the toilet flushed, then the water ran again. _At least she takes all those warnings about staff infections seriously_, House thought, remembering the time she actually cut off an intern's tie when it landed in a sink during that Echo virus epidemic in the maternity ward.

She stuck her head around the bathroom door. "What's the verdict?" she inquired.

"I think it's sleep-have sex-sleep-have sex," House replied.

"Excellent," Cuddy said, emerging from the bathroom in a very baggy nightshirt that went down almost to her knees.

"If you want me to sleep, you need to stop wearing clothes that entice me, woman," House growled.

"This?" Cuddy asked incredulously. "If this is what you consider enticing, House, then I don't know what I could wear, short of a nun's habit, that would keep you from leering."

"Actually, that sounds kind of hot," House responded.

His comment was rewarded with a pillow in the face.

They put all the extra pillows on the floor, pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. After trying several arrangements, they decided that Cuddy lying on her side with House spooning behind her was the position most conducive to sleep.

* * *

They woke up at about seven. It wasn't dark enough yet to have sex on the balcony, so they decided to break in the bed.

"You've been touching me a lot lately, I'd say it's your turn," House said in a husky voice. He reached over to Cuddy's face and began to caress it. His hand moved from her face to her hair. He ran his fingers through her dark curls as he began to kiss her face.

In some ways, Cuddy was even more closed off than House. As a woman, let alone a young, attractive one, she had spent years developing her tough, professional persona. As the years passed, she simply became less and less able to open herself up and be vulnerable. That was why she was never able to establish a relationship with anyone, or so she thought.

House had known her before her walls had gone up, and was able to remember what she was like before she became Dean Of Medicine and little else. He also never allowed her to be completely closed off from him. He could always find that little corner of her that was surprised, impressed, annoyed, charmed, amused, angered or seduced by him.

House wasn't much for talking, so he continued to show his love by kissing her. His mouth lingered on some of his favorite places – her temples, her eyelids, behind her ears, and under her chin. He kissed both corners of her mouth repeatedly. She tried to kiss him back but he wouldn't respond. Cuddy was already becoming overwhelmed by him.

She gasped as he began to kiss her throat. It was even more thrilling when he kissed his way up the nape of her neck. He traveled back down and encountered her nightshirt.

"Take this off," he growled.

She complied without comment. House was excited to find she had nothing on underneath. "Much better," he grunted with approval.

He caressed her shoulders and then kissed them. Then it was on to the back of her arms. He started down her back, making sure to kiss each vertebra.

Before long, he reached one of his favorite locations, her ass. Although he teased her mercilessly about it being huge, it wasn't. In fact, even with her being pregnant, and her butt having expanded, it still wasn't large. What it had been, and what it continued to be, was perfectly round and firm. And gorgeous. House's hands both massaged and caressed it, not missing a single centimeter. Cuddy shivered under his touch.

She assumed he wouldn't actually kiss her there, until she felt his mouth, kissing and sucking. She felt a couple of nips and was concerned for a second if he was making any marks that would show. But then she remembered that the maternity bathing suit she brought on the trip was hardly bikini-skimpy. So, she let go of her worries for once and just let herself enjoy the sensuousness of what House was doing to her body.

He continued on to the backs of her legs. She became concerned again when House reached her feet. Cuddy had spent most of her career up until the last few months encasing them in ridiculously high-heeled power pumps. Cuddy realized that this was probably over-compensation for how vulnerable she felt about her feet. Any touch short of being painful created an intense arousal for her. It was why she never allowed a massage therapist to touch her feet. Even the men she had been with, except for House, were warned away.

House began with her left foot. During her pregnancy, she had become accustomed to his long, incredibly strong fingers massaging away the pain caused by carrying around that weighted basketball. Her feet weren't particularly sore since she hadn't been on them for any length of time since the wedding, but it still felt incredible. After he finished the massage, he drew his fingers lightly across the sole of her foot. It was both sensual and ticklish. The sound coming from her mouth was a combination of a moan and a giggle. She could also feel herself getting wetter. House began to kiss and lick the bottom of her foot. Cuddy moaned again. House licked between her toes. Cuddy's body began involuntarily rocking. House finished with her left foot and gave her right foot the same treatment. Cuddy thought she would explode. House paused in his travels up the front of her body. He spread her legs and began licking her lips and then her clit. She was so wet and aroused that it didn't take long before she climaxed. She groaned with pleasure.

As House resumed traveling up her legs, Cuddy's senses returned somewhat. Her thoughts stayed on what had just happened. She knew many people would have thought her particular response was strange or disgusting. She continued to be amazed by what that told her about House. He could be so critical when it came to people's intelligence. But, when it came to people's sexuality, he was surprisingly non-judgmental. Had House developed some compassion because of all the hookers he had patronized? Was keeping his own sexuality intact such a struggle being raised by an abusively strict father and, later, dealing with a visible handicap that he made the choice not to pass judgment on others? Yet another thing about House she could spend the rest of her life trying to figure out, and also to simply respect.

Her thoughts were pulled back as House began to kiss her abdomen. She smiled as she realized how much longer this was going to take him than it had seven months ago. House didn't seem to mind, either. The baby had been restless after her orgasm, but now calmed down. House seemed to have that effect on the baby. She remembered a few weeks ago when the baby had been so agitated when she was at work that she could barely concentrate. She had to make a presentation at an important meeting, and she couldn't afford to be distracted. She stopped at House's office just before the presentation and talked to him for a few minutes. The baby calmed down just hearing the sound of his voice. Cuddy hoped (no, prayed) that effect would continue after the baby was born.

House had reached her breasts. They had leveled off as far as pregnancy-related growth was concerned, but they continued to be exquisitely sensitive. Both House's hands and his mouth brought her intense pleasure.

"Are you ready?" House asked quietly as he made his way back up to her face. This time, he kissed her deeply, his tongue dancing in her mouth. She reciprocated, pushing back with her tongue into his mouth. House slid down so that his body could curve around hers and his cock could reach her. Even though she was still wet, House decided to ease himself into her slowly. He did that several times, until his erection was straining.

Please take me, Greg," Cuddy whispered. It was all House needed to speed up his thrusts.

"OOOhhhh," Cuddy moaned as her orgasm hit.

House grunted with pleasure as his own release washed over him.

They lay on their sides, facing each other. Cuddy's hands reached up to House's face and began to caress him.

"I'm going to need a few minutes to recover before we start again," House informed her.

"I wasn't expecting you to start again now," Cuddy responded. "I thought the plan was sleep-have sex-sleep-have sex. So, we need to do the second sleep part now."

"If you wanted to sleep, why are your hands all over me?" House asked.

"My hands aren't all over you," Cuddy replied. "I'm just touching your face a little."

"Why?" House asked.

"Because I enjoy it, that's all," Cuddy answered as she finished, kissed him lightly and rolled on to her side so that House could spoon with her.

House put his arms around her, wondering why he had wasted all that time not letting her touch him. _We'll just have to make it up the best we can_, House thought with a smile as he drifted off to sleep again.


	54. Chapter 54

A/N: Hey, kids, it's my first chapter with a flashback! I think it's okay, what do you think?

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

Cuddy woke to the sound of House's stomach rumbling. He was sitting up in bed, looking at the TV with the sound off.

"We should get one of these for our bedroom," House commented as he pointed to the plasma TV hanging on the wall.

"I've heard that a TV in the bedroom kills a couple's sex life," Cuddy responded.

"I had you once, and then I waited over twenty years to get you back in bed," House stated, "I don't think a mere TV is going to keep me from wanting to fuck your brains out every minute of every day for at least the next twenty years."

"Gee, thanks for reminding me what a romantic you are," Cuddy replied sarcastically. "I'd almost forgotten. What time is it?"

"It's about 10:30," House answered. "I know it's dark enough to have sex on the balcony now, but I really need to eat something first."

Cuddy was excited about the sex, but she had heard how hungry House was. It made her happy when he was hungry. She considered feeding him her top priority since, well . . .

_House was just home from Mayfield. He wasn't back to work yet, and Cuddy and Wilson took turns stopping by to see him at the end of the day. It was Cuddy's turn that night. When she arrived, he didn't answer the door, so she used the key he had given her in case of emergencies. She found him in his bedroom. He had crashed on his bed, still in his sweats and t-shirt. It wasn't dark yet, and his bedroom blinds were open. _

_She was about ready to leave him asleep and call later. Then he shifted on the bed and his t-shirt pushed up. Cuddy was shocked. She could see every rib and his spine in high relief. She knew that he had lost weight at Mayfield, and even before, but she had no idea it was this much. In the clinic, she had seen severely malnourished kids and senior citizens, and people with eating disorders. House looked nearly as bad._

_She closed the bedroom door and called her nanny. Rachael was asleep and the nanny said she could stay the night. Cuddy then called Wilson._

"_What are his favorite takeout places?" she asked._

"_Um, there's a Chinese place about six blocks away," Wilson said, trying to think of all the places that they had ordered from that delivered. "And a pizza place three blocks away. Also, he sometimes likes Thai, and they're about fifteen blocks away, but they'll deliver for another twenty. Do you need me to come over?"_

"_No," Cuddy replied. "We just need to get some food into him."_

"_I know," Wilson replied. "I've been trying."_

"_I'm not saying you haven't," Cuddy said. She really didn't need to deal with Wilson's guilt right now. "Maybe I won't be able to do anything, either, but I'm going to try, too."_

_She checked his refrigerator and found leftover Chinese and a couple of pieces of pizza. So, it was Thai, then._

_She called and ordered a vegetable and tofu dish for herself. She ordered Pad Thai for House, to make sure he got carbs, as well as a couple of high fat appetizers and some soup._

_House must have heard something. He stumbled out into the hall._

"_How are you doing?" Cuddy inquired, as nonchalantly as she could._

"_Okay." House responded warily. "Why are you here?"_

"_My turn," she said breezily, hoping House wouldn't see how worried she was. If he did, he didn't let on._

"_I ordered Thai," Cuddy said._

"_Don't you have to go home to your kid?" House asked._

"_The nanny needs a little extra cash, so I told her she could stay the night," Cuddy said, hoping House wouldn't call her on her blatant lie. For whatever reason, he didn't._

"_Do you want to eat in the kitchen or in front of the TV?" Cuddy asked._

"_I bet there's no eating in front of your TV," House stated. "Hey, do you even have a TV?"_

"_It's in my bedroom," Cuddy replied. "And, you're right, I don't eat in there."_

"_I've heard that a TV in the bedroom isn't good for your sex life," House said._

"_Yeah, as a middle-aged, single mom with an outrageously demanding career," Cuddy replied with sarcasm, "it's the _TV_ that's killing my sex life."_

_There was a knock on the door. Cuddy jumped up and went to pay for the food. She put it down on the coffee table and went to get plates. By the time she returned, House had everything out of the bags and opened, and he was munching on the appetizers._

"_Don't really need plates," he said through a mouthful of spring roll._

"_Forgive me for wanting to at least pretend that I have not left civilization completely behind," she responded. At this point, she really didn't give a damn about the plates, since House appeared to be eating._

_Cuddy put part of her order on a plate and used a fork. "This is really good."_

"_Just don't think about the fat content, and you'll enjoy it." House commented, knowing that Cuddy had ordered vegetables and tofu in the mistaken belief that it was healthier._

"_Killjoy," Cuddy replied. She had already decided that getting House to eat was more important right now than worrying about strictly maintaining her weight. If she had to indulge in a little extra oil to eat with him and make sure he wasn't starving, it was worth the added time on the stationary bike or the jogging track._

_House had finished one appetizer and some of the soup and was starting his main course. He loudly slurped the noodles in an effort to annoy Cuddy. It was hard for her to hide her smile as she reveled in the gusto he showed eating his food._

_He sat back on the couch after finishing about half of his Pad Thai. "Can you put this away?" he asked Cuddy._

"_Sure," she replied as she picked up the leftovers and went to the kitchen to put them in the refrigerator. She came back to the living room and picked up the plates and flatware. She went back to the kitchen, put her things in the dishwasher and returned House's unused items to their respective drawers and cupboards._

_She went back to the living room, expecting that House would have the TV on. Instead, he was waiting for her. "Are you leaving now?" he asked, trying, but not really hiding, the need in his voice._

"_I told you, the nanny needs the extra cash," she responded. She sat down next to him on the couch, not quite touching him. She carefully slid her arm around House's waist and put her head on his shoulder. She waited for him to push her away. To her near total shock, he didn't_

"_Anything you want to watch?" he asked. "Not that I'm saying I'll agree if it's some chick flick."_

"_Don't care," She murmured, gently pushing her face into him. She felt bones instead of muscle or flesh, but she would not have told him that on pain of torture._

"_I'm going to bed," House announced. "Come with?"_

"_Yes," She said in her softest voice._

_They cuddled that night but they didn't have sex. Still, it was one the best nights in Cuddy's life, because it made her realize that House wanted to be with her, and, even more importantly, that he wanted to get better._

"I said, do you want anything?" House repeated in frustration. Sometimes Cuddy would drift off somewhere. He hoped she was at least thinking of him occasionally when this happened.

"Um," Cuddy replied, "A salad is always good. If they have chef's salad that would be even better."

"And a chef's salad," House said, completing the order.

Cuddy got up from the bed and started picking up the pillows.

"I don't think the hotel staff is going to care that we threw the pillows on the floor, Cuddy," House said.

"I'm bringing them out to the balcony," she replied.

She went out on to the balcony and dropped them. She went to the railing and looked out over the ocean. House came out to join her after a while.

She felt him slipping his arms around her. She turned to him, put her arms around him and felt beautiful, warm muscle. And the tiniest amount of fat around his middle. She could not keep from smiling.

"I just wanted to tell you the food is here," House announced. He noticed Cuddy was particularly happy and affectionate tonight. He didn't know if it was the honeymoon or her hormones, but he didn't care. They loved each other and they were enjoying themselves. What else was there?


	55. Chapter 55

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Writer's block continues to be a problem. Maybe that means it's tme to wind this story up and start on another one, although I do have some things coming up about the baby, so I haven't decided yet. So, maybe just hitting the fast forward button a little would help. As always, let me know what you think.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

Cuddy came back into the room with House.

The tray with the food was on the coffee table in the sitting area.

Cuddy saw her salad. She hadn't really heard what House had ordered for himself, and she was curious. A reuben with fries, of course.

"No beer?" Cuddy asked, surveying the tray.

"Not at nine-fifty a bottle," House replied. "We'd have to take out a second mortgage to afford a bottle of wine, and we'd need to win the lottery for the mixed drinks. We should go to a liquor store tomorrow."

"Not on my account," Cuddy said with her hand over her abdomen. She was secretly pleased that House The Cheapskate had won out over House The Drinker.

"I guess I could limit it to beer," House conceded. "I'll get some when we go to the market."

"Why are we going to the market?" Cuddy inquired. "We can't really cook in here."

"Snacks," House mumbled as he chewed his sandwich.

"Maybe we could get some fruit and keep it in the minibar," Cuddy said, warming to the idea.

"Uh, I was thinking more like some pretzels and chips," House responded, "but you could get a couple of apples, I suppose. As long as there's room for the beer."

"Thanks," Cuddy said sarcastically.

House had finished his sandwich and was close to finishing his fries.

"You eat so fast," Cuddy said, still working on her salad. "It's a wonder you don't get indigestion."

"Force of habit," House admitted. "If you're going to steal someone's fries, you better be quick about eating them. That, plus meals at home weren't exactly fun. The quicker I ate, the quicker I would be excused from the table, which meant less verbal abuse from John. It doesn't sound like much, but five or ten minutes less a day of being told what a loser you are adds up over the course of a year."

"Why was your father's head so far up his ass?" Cuddy asked. She was past expressing sympathy and had moved on to anger. "He had a brilliant, musically talented, multilingual, athletic son. What the hell more was he expecting?"

"I told you," House replied. "He wanted me to be a marine. The fact that I was good at science or languages, or that I could play the piano meant nothing to him. If anything, he disliked it because it took away from what I really should be doing, which was 'toughening' myself up to join the corps."

"By doing what, exactly?" Cuddy asked. "Sticking bamboo under your fingernails?"

"Good thing the bastard didn't think of that, or I'm sure he would have done it," House responded.

"What about your being an athlete?" Cuddy asked. "Surely that was something that he could at least grudgingly respect."

"He thought lacrosse was a game for 'fairies,' or so he told me," House said. "He used to put me down because I was too "skinny' to play a 'real' man's sport, like football."

"All I can say is, it's a good thing he's dead," Cuddy muttered, "Otherwise, I'd kill him myself."

"Hey, can we talk about something a little bit more fun?" House asked. "Like, I don't know, sex on the balcony?"

"I'm going to put the rest of my salad in the refrigerator, and put the tray outside the room," Cuddy stated. "Then I'll be back to arrange the pillows out there."

Cuddy accomplished all three tasks in a matter of minutes. "It's a little cold out here," she told House through the French doors. "I think we are going to need some blankets."

House pulled two blankets off the top shelf of the closet, and the extra pillows, just in case they needed them, too. He went out the French doors. Cuddy was lying across the pillows, naked and shivering. While House didn't want her to be too uncomfortable, he loved what the cold was doing to her nipples. He reluctantly threw her one of the blankets. She quickly covered herself. Cuddy noticed the disappointment cross his face.

"This blanket looks big enough to cover both of us," Cuddy remarked in her most sensuous voice. "Why don't you join me?" As Cuddy said this, she lifted the blanket, showing her naked body and openly inviting House to lay down with her.

House removed whatever was left of his clothing and threw it back into the room. He eased himself on to the pillows and pulled Cuddy closer. House didn't really understand it. He'd been with hot women during his life. He had been sleeping with Cuddy on a regular basis for several years now. She was largely pregnant, her belly interfering with any sex they were going to have. And yet, just lying next to her with their naked bodies touching was such a turn on for him. Why was he still so attracted to her? It was great, but it was a puzzle to him.

"Are you okay?" Cuddy asked, noticing that he was distracted.

"Fine," he answered. "What is it about you?"

"What do you mean?" Cuddy inquired. "Do I have spinach in my teeth?"

"No," House answered, his lips turning upward slightly in a smile. "What is it about you that makes me want you so much? It's like I can never get enough of you, even though we have sex all the time."

"Are you actually complaining because you're not sick of me yet?" Cuddy asked with a smile of her own.

"Not complaining," House responded. "Just puzzled."

"Could it possibly be that you don't just find me attractive, but that you love me, too?" Cuddy ventured.

"I guess," House replied.

"You guess you love me, or you guess it's the combination?" Cuddy attempted to clarify.

"I definitely love you," House stated. That he could be so completely sure and state it so matter-of-factly was a surprise to them both. "I'm just not sure it's the combination."

"Well, then what is it?" Cuddy questioned.

"How the hell should I know?" House replied with his own question. "This isn't about scientific facts. It's not like you can do a differential on emotions and come up with a diagnosis. Damn, where's Cameron when you need her?"

"You really think Cameron has more insight into your feelings and your libido than I do?" Cuddy asked. "If so, you've been sleeping with the wrong woman for several years. And you got the wrong one pregnant, too."

"No, it's just that she's my go-to person when emotional things confuse me," House admitted.

"I'm not your 'go-to' person?" Cuddy asked, barely able to contain the hurt in her voice.

"Cuddy," House said in exasperation, "I refuse to let you make an issue out of this! We've been together for almost five years, you're going to have my child and we just got married. And we're on our honeymoon. All I meant was, when I'm puzzled about something emotional, she's helpful because she's emotional and she knows my process."

"Sorry," Cuddy said, realizing she was over-reacting. "It's just that Cameron liked you, and you dated her, and she's young and pretty. I'm sorry if my fat, pregnant self needed some reassurance."

"Please," House responded. "She _thought_ she liked me, we went on _one_ date because that was the only way I could get her to come back to work for me, _ten_ _years ago_. Now, she's married to someone else and is about to have his second kid. At least I think it's his kid. She could be doing some blond pool boy and we'd never know. But, still, not my problem. As far as your 'fat' pregnant self, I just told you I want you 24-7."

"Okay," Cuddy said. "I really don't want to spend my honeymoon talking about you and another woman, even if it was insignificant and ancient history. I'm not sure I can help you with your puzzle more than saying what I did. Sometimes, feelings just can't be explained."

"That's what makes them yucky," House stated.

"Why does everything have to be explained?" Cuddy asked.

"If you can explain it, then it's rational." House replied. "It can't come after you for no reason. It can't hurt you or haunt you in your sleep or . . . "

At this point, Cuddy knew enough not to respond directly to what he was saying. She simply pulled House closer. "Just be with me, please?" she asked, letting him be the strong one who was giving her comfort.

House rested his face against hers. She must have known that he could stay with her like this and never move for the rest of his life and be completely content.

They were quiet for the first time. The sound of the ocean was below them. The waves moving in and out were soothing. Cuddy's hand made its way to House's cheek His hand reciprocated against her cheek. They began to kiss. Each kiss had more depth than the last.

House's hands left her face and traveled all over Cuddy's body. He decided right there that the puzzle was meaningless; he was just going to enjoy her. It had to be one of the very few puzzles he had decided to let go of in his entire life. She was that intoxicating and he was that close to actually being happy.

Cuddy's hands were roaming House's body as well. She realized how silly she had been about Cameron. She knew House never loved Cameron. She was even pretty sure that House had not loved Stacey as much as he loved her. She pushed all of that out of her mind and focused on him. If she was at all honest with herself, it was also a puzzle to her why she wanted him so much after all this time. There was just something about him that got her heart racing, and parts farther south, well, excited. The way he looked, the way he sounded, the way he felt, the way he smelled, and, even the way he tasted.

House must have been thinking something similar (if he was thinking at all) because they began attacking each other's throats with their mouths at about the same time. Did her sweat taste as musky and salty to him as his did to her?

Cuddy was pretty wet when she felt House's erection. He kept it close to her opening, but he didn't insert it right away.

"Please, Greg," she asked. She felt comfortable enough by now that she let him see and hear all of her need for him.

"Lisa," House said softly as he found his way into her.

His thrusts began slowly. He picked up the pace and she responded, doing her best with her largely pregnant self to meet him.

Cuddy continued to be amazed that, even with her current state, House still managed to hit the right spot, again and again. She could feel her orgasm overtaking her.

House released soon after, his body reacting to her coming all around him.

House began to pull out.

"Not yet," Cuddy asked. "Can I feel you inside me a little longer?"

House nodded. And smiled.

After a while, House lost his erection completely and slipped out of her.

A few moments later House asked, "Do you always want me, too?"

"Not all the time," Cuddy admitted. "That time I had the flu with the 104 fever and the projectile vomiting, there were a few hours when I didn't want anything, I think . . . "

"Not your sexiest moment," House agreed. "But, you were a little hot leaning over the toilet with your sweaty hair plastered against your face. Of course, your breath would have been an atrocity . . . "

Cuddy couldn't help but smile. "Thanks."

"For what?" House asked

"For saying at least some parts of me were sexy even during the flu," Cuddy replied. "I think we need to go back inside and use the real bed for the rest of the night. My back won't work tomorrow if we don't."

House wasn't sure if it was Cuddy's back or her concern for his leg, but he was pleased that she didn't make an issue out of it. She had learned that he still had a hard time being taken care of. The interesting thing was that she had figured out how to take care of him, sometimes without him even realizing it.

They gathered the pillows, brought them inside and put them near the bed. They climbed in and reached for each other, pretty much out of habit. And what a lovely habit it was.


	56. Chapter 56

A/N: A little Wiles before we bring House and Cuddy back from their honeymoon, and then, well, you'll see . . .

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc., Except OCs**

Wilson wasn't accustomed to staying at Andie's during the week, and he wondered how it would go. He had started to think of it as a test, but checked himself, determined to just enjoy the time with her and the girls.

Mornings were a little chaotic with Rachael and Catia getting ready for school and Wilson and Andie getting ready for work, but they seemed to manage. After a couple of days of almost being late, Andie put the alarm on an hour earlier just so she and Wilson would have time to have sex.

Wilson's exes had refused to have sex with him in the morning, saying it was too rushed. Wilson loved the fact that Andie was willing, very able, and quite eager. Even those awful days when he had to give bad news or he lost a patient, it still helped him. He experienced, for the first time, that how _he_ felt mattered to someone, and that he didn't exist just to please or to help other people.

And, as much as he enjoyed the mornings, the evenings were even better. He'd get back from work at around six. The girls would have finished their homework and would be playing or watching TV. Andie would be in the kitchen, cooking. So, when Wilson came through the door, he would smell dinner and hear children laughing.

The first time it happened, that Monday, he just stood in the doorway, absorbing it all. He wasn't sure what would happen after House and Cuddy came back, other than Rachael returning home. He didn't know if he would continue to stay at Andie's or if they would decide another "break" was in order. Hell, he was certainly more than capable of screwing it up, too. So, since this might be his one chance to feel true contentment, he vowed he was going to remember every minute of it. The memories might be the only thing that kept him going after it was over.

He made his way to the kitchen.

"Hi, sweetie," Andie exclaimed. She knew that a lot of Wilson's job was to carry people and their families over the finish line, as it were. She had dealt with the death of her child and had turned to the solace of history and music to get her through it, but she couldn't imagine dealing with those open, bleeding wounds day after day.

Wilson's depth of compassion took her breath away. And then there was his ass. Andie tried to keep her thoughts focused on dinner, if nothing else, but there was Wilson. Just standing there, oblivious to the effect of him and his pheromones on her. Thank goodness her perspiration could be blamed on the heat of the oven. Or the stove. Or the microwave?

She was at a stopping point, so she ran over to him and gave him a quick kiss. He reciprocated with a slightly deeper kiss. Before they knew it, they were practically sucking each others faces off, with tongues battling in each other's mouths.

"Is dinner ready?" Catia asked as the girls came into the kitchen.

"Ewww," Rachael exclaimed when she saw Wilson and Andie kissing. "Why don't you guys get a room?" Rachael wasn't 100% sure what that meant, but she had heard House utter it countless times when he saw Public Displays of Affection, so she was pretty sure it was appropriate here.

Wilson and Andie stopped abruptly and started laughing. "Let me guess," Wilson said, "You've heard House say that on more than one occasion?"

"Yes," Rachael admitted. "I've wanted to say it to him and Mommy a few times, too."

"I hope we didn't traumatize you, honey," Andie said. "It's just that when two people love each other, they want to show it. A lot." Andie gave Wilson a huge smile, which he reciprocated.

"No, you didn't," Rachael responded. "Like I said, it's not like I haven't seen it before."

"What about dinner?" Catia asked.

"Well, I've got a lot to do here, so I would say about a half-hour," Andie replied.

"But we're so hungry," Catia stated dramatically.

"Could I help with anything?" Wilson asked.

"You must be tired after a long day," Andie said.

"Hey, it's me, remember?" Wilson asked. "I love to cook." _Especially with you_. He kept that last thought to himself.

Andie directed him to some tasks, and they were able to get everything together in about ten minutes. They called the girls to the kitchen table and sat down to eat. The conversation went to what everyone had done during the day, and, of course, what House and Cuddy were doing, too. Wilson and Andie tried to keep things G-rated, although they suspected House and Cuddy's activities were anything but.

The meal passed quickly and everyone helped with clean up. The girls went to the family room to watch TV and Andie and Wilson went to living room to sit and talk.

"Anything you didn't share with the girls over dinner that you'd care to share with me?" Andie asked, knowing that Wilson was unlikely to tell them about any difficult events or discussions he had had today.

"We achieved a remission for a teenaged patient whose bone marrow transplant failed last year," Wilson stated.

"Well, that's good news," Andie responded.

"Yes, except the kid will require low dose chemo for who knows how long. With all those toxins running around his system, if he makes it to thirty, he'll be lucky," Wilson said.

"Still, it's better than dying at fifteen," Andie said.

"I guess," Wilson replied.

"Anything else?" Andie inquired, sensing that he was holding something back.

"I had to tell a thirty-nine year-old that he has lung cancer," Wilson answered. "He has three to six months, and a wife and two kids under ten."

"Oh," Andie said.

"You didn't ask if he was a smoker," Wilson noticed.

"What difference could that possibly make?" Andie asked.

"People seem to want to know that." Wilson said.

"Why, so they can think the person who is sick is somehow guilty?" Andie said with disgust. "You wouldn't believe what people had the nerve to say to me when Jake was sick. Did I know if we lived over a toxic waste dump? Did we feed him a lot of food with chemicals and additives? It was like they wanted me to be responsible for his illness."

"Cancer scares people. It can hit someone at any age, out of the blue," Wilson said. "If people think it can be traced to something, well, it makes it a little less scary for them. Of course, for the person who has it, and their loved ones, that feels more like blame."

"It's the curse of success, I guess," Andie said. "There was a time when most people died without explanation or very quickly. People believed that there was some other force, God, the devil, or whatever, that carried people away."

"Our success at controlling some diseases has made our failure with controlling others even more frightening. So, it's easier to blame the victim. Is that what you mean?" Wilson asked thoughtfully.

"That's my experience," Andie replied. "How do you deal with this shit every day?"

Wilson smiled at Andie's bluntness. "Some days, better than others."

"What makes the difference?" Andie asked.

"Knowing that there's someone that gives a damn about me that I'm going to see at the end of the day helps . . . " Wilson's voice trailed off as he tried to hide that it was breaking.

"Oh, James," Andie responded, pulling him to her. She was humming softly as she rocked him in her arms.

Rachael and Catia had come into the living room to say goodnight. When they saw the couple together, they blew kisses at Andie and went quietly to bed.

"Come to bed with me," Andie murmured as she placed soft kisses at random places on Wilson's face.

"Okay," Wilson whispered as he and Andie got up from the couch. She guided him to the bedroom and they quickly removed all their clothing.

"Do you mind cuddling for a while?" Andie asked.

Wilson was pretty sure that Andie didn't have that tough a day teaching history to some bored undergraduates and sitting through a tedious faculty meeting that she really needed the cuddling. However, he knew he did. He was just grateful that she was sensitive enough around both his ego and libido to let him feel like she was the needy one. Then again, all that talk of dying cancer patients might have reminded her of her son, so maybe she did need at least a little comfort from him, too.

They put their arms around each other and held each other as closely as they possibly could.

After a few minutes, Andie pulled back and looked closely at Wilson's face. "How did such a pretty man wind up being straight?" Andie pondered out of the blue.

Wilson laughed. "I have no idea," he answered. "My older brother was such a prick he turned me off on men?"

It was Andie's turn to laugh. "I don't know that much about it. However, I'm pretty sure that it's that it's a combination of genetics and your family that influence your sexuality, but I think that's mostly your parents, not your siblings."

"Well, I don't know about my genetics, but I guess my parents are just dumb, happy, heterosexuals," Wilson replied.

"Lots of PDAs?" Andie asked.

"Yeah," Wilson winced, although he was smiling. "I have a little more empathy for Catia and Rachael right now."

"So, have I completely killed the mood?" Andie asked, not attempting to hide her disappointment.

"I think I can get back into it again," Wilson replied.

"Does this help?" Andie whispered, as she kissed him up and down the front and sides of his neck.

"Umm," Wilson responded, already beginning to lose himself. This woman only had to give him the lightest of touches and his body responded.

Andie continued. She licked and lightly nibbled the skin in the hollows formed by his collarbones, and then gave his nipples the same treatment. Andie could feel his erection pressing against her.

Her mouth continued down his abdomen. He was still a little soft around the middle, but he had lost some weight in the time she had known him. It only made him sexier. She lingered there for a while, finally making it to his lower regions.

Wilson was fully erect as Andie began to take him into her mouth. Wilson moaned her name as she moved her mouth up and down his cock. "I can't take . . . " Wilson's voice trailed off into another moan.

Andie stopped what she was doing with her mouth and straddled Wilson. She used her hand to ease his cock into her. Wilson could no longer keep from thrusting and Andie pushed down hard, slamming him deep into her. They continued, picking up the pace as each of them neared orgasm. Andie came first, the lower half of her body shaking intensely. Wilson followed immediately after, coming hard and completely losing himself.

They settled into each other's arms, as their senses returned.

"Thank you," Wilson said.

"Don't do that," Andie replied.

"You don't want me to thank you?" Wilson asked with surprise.

"Not for sex," Andie responded.

"Why not?" Wilson inquired.

"My ex used to do it, and it drove me crazy," Andie answered. "He also used to want me to give him sex as a reward for something else he did, like mowing the lawn."

"I guess it does kind of trivialize it," Wilson ventured, trying to understand what Andie was getting at.

"Sex isn't some reward or prize," Andie continued. "It's communication, and the closest contact you can have with another person, the deepest form of intimacy. If I were at all spiritual, I'd say it's the closest you can come as a human being to experiencing the divine."

"So, can't I thank you for giving me that experience?" Wilson asked.

"_I_ didn't give _you_ anything," Andie replied. "We willingly came together to do this. We can't do it without each other."

Wilson was trying to let this sink in. He had always seen sex as something he did to please or help someone. Of course, it gave him pleasure, too, but he had always considered that secondary, at least on a conscious level.

"I'm not sure I really understand all this," Wilson said. "So, we'll just have to keep doing it until I get it."

Andie couldn't keep from smiling. "Sounds good to me."

They resumed cuddling and fell asleep.


	57. Chapter 57

A/N: I'm not sure I got any of the medicine (such as it is) right in the chapter, but I hope the drama makes up for it. As always, let me know what you think

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**Disclaimer:Don't Own, Etc.**

As House had predicted at the wedding, most of their time during the honeymoon was spent in the hotel room having sex. Of course, the fact that it rained a lot had something to do with it. Cuddy was a little disappointed. House wasn't.

Cuddy convinced House to go to Charleston for one day. They shopped in the market and went to one of the historic houses.

Cuddy even persuaded House to take a carriage ride. Since it wasn't peak tourist season, they managed to get a carriage all to themselves. Cuddy was impressed with the carriage driver's knowledge of the city. House was sitting as close as possible to Cuddy with his arm around her. Cuddy thought it was very romantic. For House, it gave him an excellent view down her low-cut top, thereby helping him to tune out the driver, which kept the driver from being too annoying.

It rained again later in the week, so the sex on the beach didn't happen. They left on Sunday and made it back to Princeton on Monday afternoon.

It didn't take long to get back to their routine. The weeks passed quickly. House had a lot of cases, and Cuddy spent her time at work getting things ready for her maternity leave, and getting the nursery ready at home.

* * *

House had had a particularly tough case and had stayed at the hospital for a couple of days. It was one in the afternoon. The patient was in treatment and House had sent his team home. He was getting ready to leave when his cell rang. He saw it was the ER and assumed it was Cameron.

"Just took me three days and two nights to solve the last case and I'm not looking for a new one, Blondie," House said quickly and hung up.

The phone rang again. _Well, she's nothing if not persistent._ "Listen, I'm exhausted and I'm heading – "

Cameron cut him off, "House, they just brought in an MVA. It's Cuddy and Rach – "

House hung up on Cameron a second time. He grabbed his cane and vaulted up from his desk. He was down the hall in seconds. It took what seemed like an eternity for an elevator going down to stop. It was pretty full. Ordinarily, House would wait for the next one just to make sure he his leg didn't get jostled. He squeezed himself in and hoped most of these people were getting off on the first floor, so they wouldn't be making stops on the floors in between. Luckily, they didn't stop again until the main floor. He was off the elevator before the doors were completely open and to the ER. He found Cameron.

"Where the hell are they?" he asked.

Cameron pointed to a curtained area behind him. He found Rachael sitting on a gurney. She had an ice bag covering what looked to be a swollen knee and she was crying. She put her arms out when she saw House.

House got to her as soon as he could and embraced her. "Don't cry, baby girl," House whispered, rocking her in his arms. Rachael was clinging on to House for dear life.

"She's a little banged up, but she's okay," Cameron informed House. "With booster seats, seat belts, side airbags and kids riding in the back seat, there aren't as many serious injuries for young kids anymore, thank God."

House was kissing Rachael all over her face and head, and barely heard Cameron.

"Why aren't you in school?"

"It was my last day of first grade, and it was a half-day," Rachael explained. "Mommy picked me up at school and took me to lunch."

"Oh," House replied. He hadn't been home so he didn't know about their plans. Not that he would have remembered if they had told him, anyway.

"Where's Cuddy?" he asked Cameron.

"They took her for an MRI," Cameron said. Her pager went off. "It's Cuddy." She got a nurse to watch Rachael as she and House went to Imaging.

They saw Cuddy on a gurney flying past them. "What's happening?" Cameron asked.

"She's bleeding," said the resident who was running to keep up with the gurney. "We're taking her to surgery."

House took off after them as fast as he could.

Cameron pulled out her cell and filled Wilson in on what was happening. "I think House is going to need you," she said.

"I'll be right down."

Of course, House attempted to get into the OR with Cuddy. It took two interns and an orderly to get him sit in the observation area. Wilson joined him, out of breath from taking the stairs two at a time.

"What are they doing?" Wilson asked.

"They won't tell me," House growled in frustration.

The monitors began screeching. "She's crashing."

House and Wilson jumped out of their seats as they watched the paddles being applied to Cuddy's chest.

"Clear!" Cuddy jolted up from the table, but nothing else happened.

They tried a higher voltage. "Clear!" The monitors began beeping again.

House and Wilson both let go of the breaths they had been holding.

A few moments passed and Cuddy seemed to stabilize. Just then, the monitor for the baby's heartbeat began to screech.

"There's a placental abruption!" Chase yelled. "We're going to need to do a c-section!"

Before House had the chance to think, a clipboard with consent forms was shoved in front of him. He signed them as quickly as he could.

He was brought from the observation area to scrub up and was given a gown and gloves. He limped into the OR as they were cutting open Cuddy's abdomen. Even though he'd seen countless procedures on every part of the human body, he was surprised to find himself feeling slightly faint. _Must be because I'm tired_ he thought. One of the nurses got him a chair.

He was watching as they lifted the baby out of Cuddy's body. There he was, Michael James House. After a few taps on his foot, he began to cry. He was taken to be weighed, measured and assessed. He was then wrapped in a blanket and handed to House. "What's his APGAR?" House asked as he checked him out.

"Nine," the nurse replied. House sighed with relief as Michael continued to cry.

He moved his chair to where Cuddy's head was.

"Can you hear that, Cuddy?" House asked, even though she was under anesthesia. "The kid has a set of lungs on him. Must take after your side."

The surgeons continued to work on Cuddy. There seemed to be no further mishaps.

"We need to take the baby now, Doctor House," a nurse informed him. He handed the baby to her.

They had finished with Cuddy and were wheeling her to recovery.

Wilson was still sitting in the observation lounge. He watched as House sat by himself in the operating room. His instinct was to rush down and try to comfort House. Instead, he held back and watched as House removed his gown and gloves and sat back down. He saw the heaving begin in House's shoulders. He looked at House's face and saw tears streaming down.

Try as he might, Wilson couldn't hold back any longer. Before he was even aware of moving, he found himself in the operating room, with his arms around House's shoulders as House remained seated in the chair, crying into Wilson's abdomen.

Wilson wasn't sure how long it was, but he saw Cameron enter the room.

"We've checked Rachael thoroughly and she seems to be okay," Cameron said softly.

House looked up with his exhausted, red-rimmed eyes. He almost seemed to be asking his friends to tell him what to do next.

"Why don't you get cleaned up and take Rachael to see the baby?" Cameron suggested.

"Sounds like a good idea," Wilson replied for House.

Wilson led House to the nearest men's room. House used the toilet and splashed his face with cold water. He took some pain meds, too.

"How's the leg?" Wilson asked.

"It's not too bad," House responded.

"Let's go get Rachael, then," Wilson stated.

"They found Rachael sitting in chairs just outside the ER with an aide. "Is Mommy okay?" she asked fearfully.

"She's in recovery," House replied. "I think she's going to be all right. Did anyone tell you she had the baby?"

"No," Rachael said. "Can I see them?"

"Your mom's in one place and the baby's in another," Wilson informed her. "We can't see your mom just yet, so why don't we go see your brother?"

"Yes, please," Rachael responded.

They headed to the maternity ward. Wilson paused outside. "You can take it from here," he informed House, not wanting to intrude on their family time.

"See ya," House said. Even though House didn't say anything, the look of gratitude in his eyes told Wilson everything he needed to know.

House led Rachael into the nursery.

"Are you here to see your son, Doctor House?" a nurse inquired.

House hesitated. He wanted to say that his daughter was here to see her brother, but he knew they were both exhausted and very emotional, and he didn't want to make it worse.

"Rachael would like to hold her brother," House replied.

"Certainly," the nurse smiled. "Please sit down over here, sweetie."

Rachael did as she was told and had a paper gown placed over her. "Newborns necks are sort of weak, so you have to make sure you support their heads, okay?" the nurse informed her.

"Okay," Rachael answered. The nurse placed the baby in Rachael's arms. "He's so little," she remarked.

"You were about that size the first time I saw you," House said. "You were in the hospital and your mom was with you. I remember wishing her a Merry Christmas."

"Mommy's Jewish," Rachael stated as she looked at the newborn sleeping in her arms.

"It doesn't matter," House said, lost in the memory. "She didn't hear me. She was too busy looking at you."

Rachael smiled. "Did you love me then?"

House had no idea how to answer that question. How did he explain that at the time, he thought that any chance for a relationship with Cuddy was over. That, because of his own upbringing, he believed he was incapable of loving a child. That he was in the middle of a downward spiral that would lead to his committing himself to a mental hospital.

"Yes, we both did." House knew it was blatantly untrue. But, how could he tell her there was a time he didn't love her without hurting her? He had vowed he would never be the bastard to his own children that John had been to him. Hey, everybody lies.

"I think my arms are getting tired," Rachael said.

"Give him to me," House requested gently. He took the baby and lowered himself carefully into another chair.

Rachael looked at the two of them for a while, and then began to nod off. House checked the clock on the wall. It was only six, but they were both exhausted. House reluctantly handed the baby back to the nurse.

House brought Rachael back to his office. The walk seemed to have given her a second wind. House wished it had done the same for him. He called Chase to check on Cuddy and was informed that she was out of recovery, but she was sedated and wouldn't be awake until at least the following morning.

House decided to bring Rachael home. The only problem was that he didn't trust himself to drive without falling asleep. He'd been at the hospital so long, he couldn't even remember how he'd gotten there, what was it, three days ago?

"Need a ride?" Wilson asked as he stuck his head in the door.

"The fact that you knew that is just scary," House replied.

"I take it that's a 'yes,'" Wilson stated.

Somehow, Wilson got the two of them to his car and home.


	58. Chapter 58

A/N: I originally wrote a version of this chapter several months ago, when I was just beginning this story. I have tried to modify it to "catch-up" with all happenings/changes since, so I hope I got everything.

* * *

When they came in the front door, House's first impulse was to head straight for bed. House had no idea how long Cuddy and the baby would be in the hospital He hoped to get a decent night's sleep tonight in their own bed (especially since he would not have to deal with a hugely pregnant Cuddy tossing and turning all night in a useless attempt to get comfortable).

Then he realized Rachael hadn't eaten since lunch, and he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. Wilson had already figured this out and was on his cell ordering a pizza. House overheard Wilson ordering one medium-sized, which would never be enough for the three of them.

"Finally got tired of buying me food and decided to get just enough for you and the kid?" House said.

"Nope. I got tired of buying you food years ago," Wilson responded. "I'm not staying for dinner tonight."

"Hot date next door?" House asked.

"House! There's a child in the room," Wilson exclaimed looking out of the corner of his eye at Rachael, who was getting herself some juice.

"Oh, that's okay, Uncle James," Rachael said nonchalantly, "I've seen you guys kissing, remember?"

"PDAs in front of the children," House exclaimed in mock indignation. "How could you?"

"Funny, Rachael said at the time it was nothing she hadn't seen you and Cuddy doing," Wilson retorted.

House wanted to provide Wilson with a brilliant comeback, but he was just too tired. "Yeah, so?"

"On that note of rapier-like wit, I think I'll go," Wilson said.

"Hey, who's going to pay for the pizza?" House asked.

"I would have thought you had my credit card number memorized by now, House," Wilson responded. "If not, improvise."

Wilson turned to Rachael. "Aunt Andie and I will be right next door, sweetie, if you need anything."

"Thanks, Uncle James," Rachael said.

House wondered if he should be insulted that Wilson thought he couldn't handle a six-year-old child. Then again, it had been a rough few days and he had seriously abused his leg. If he had a bad pain flare up during the night or if he fell, it was comforting to know that help was close by. He hoped he wouldn't need it.

House was pulled out his thoughts by the doorbell ringing.

House opened the door and the delivery person handed him the pizza, which he put on the table in the foyer. House was then handed a credit card receipt to sign. Wilson had paid for it after all. House signed it with an unreadable signature, but put just enough flourish on it to make it look like Wilson's girly handwriting. He also made sure to give the delivery person a good size tip, on the credit card, of course. House smiled to himself. He was sure Wilson would have done that, anyway, wouldn't he?

House took the pizza to the kitchen. Rachael had set out the paper plates. House thought he should at least try to talk to Rachael. He didn't think it was a good idea to further traumatize her by asking about the accident, even though he really wanted to know what happened. Then he remembered what Rachael had told him earlier. "So, how was your last day of school?"

"Fine," Rachael said, and then proceeded to describe who her teacher was next year and what kids that were in her class now would be in next year's class, along with much excruciating detail about the Byzantine relationships that existed between the girls and boys in her class. This took a full five minutes, but House survived it by tuning her out at about the 30-second mark.

As Rachael was finishing, she noticed House's glazed-over eyes. "You don't really care about any of this, do you?" she inquired.

"Sorry, kid, I really don't," House answered honestly. Since she could see right through him, there was no point in lying.

"Why did you ask me, then?" Rachael said.

House didn't want to tell her that he was trying to help her feel better. The kid had had enough stress today. "Just trying to make conversation, like a normal person, I guess." House shrugged.

"You're boring when you're trying to be normal." Rachael knowingly observed. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure," House said, the relief in his tone evident. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I've been thinking about something," Rachael began. "When Michael starts to talk, he's going to call Mommy, 'Mommy,' right?"

"Riiight," House answered.

"And he's going to be calling you 'Daddy,' right?" Rachael continued, trying, with her 6-year-old understanding, to see how House was responding to what she was saying.

"I guess he will," House answered, thinking about that for the first time himself and wondering how it would feel.

"Don't you think it will be confusing to him if we both call Mommy 'Mommy," and he calls you 'Daddy,' and I don't?" Rachael asked.

"Do you want to call me 'Daddy'?" House asked. He had suspected she wanted to do that for a while. "You know I'm not your father, don't you?" He had to tell her that.

"Not officially," Rachael said, "Not like with the law and stuff . . . " she mumbled as she stared down at the kitchen floor.

"Are you saying you want me to adopt you?" House asked. He was having a hard time imagining that any kid, even Rachael, would actually choose him for a father.

"Would you?" Rachael asked, trying not to sound too needy. (Rachael wasn't sure what "being needy" really meant, but she had heard House say he hated it when Uncle James "enabled" it, so she was pretty sure it wasn't a good thing.) When House didn't answer right away, Rachael started to get nervous and began to back away from what she had said. "It's a lot of paperwork and I think you have to be interviewed by a social worker, and stuff, so I can see why you wouldn't want to do it."

"I didn't say I didn't want to," House said, trying not to sound angry. "I'm just amazed that you would want that, I mean, want me for a dad," House fumbled. "I'm not exactly the happiest, most easy-going, nicest guy in the world."

"I don't want nice, I want you," Rachael interjected, trying to be helpful. _Oops._

"Well, at least you're being honest," House chuckled.

"Sorry," Rachael said softly.

"Nothing to be sorry about when you're telling the truth, kid," House reassured her. "I still don't know why you want this."

"Well," Rachael began, "I think it would be good for us to be a real family." She looked at House and knew that what she said didn't seem to be convincing him. Well, if he wanted honest, he would get honest. "I'm afraid that when the baby comes home, you won't want to have anything to do with me anymore because he's yours and Mommy's and I'm not anyone's!"

"What do you mean?" House asked with surprise. "Do you really think that once he comes home, we're going to toss you out and make you sleep in the yard?" In House's attempt to say something outrageous to bring Rachael back to reality, he inadvertently stumbled on a painful memory of his own.

House then began to question every interaction he'd had with Rachael to this point. He'd been a presence in her life even before he and Cuddy got together, and after he and Cuddy had started living together, he had been at least okay to her, hadn't he? He'd certainly never put her down or abused her the way John House had abused him. But was that enough?

He certainly wasn't telling her he loved her every other minute, but he made sure she had food and he was paying at least a portion of the cost to keep a roof over her head. Of course, John House had done those basic things, too.

"Listen, the guy who raised me wasn't very good at it. In fact, he was pretty terrible." House informed her.

"What did he do?" Rachael asked.

"That's not important right now." House told her. "What is important is that I only know what not to do with you, not what I should do."

"I think you are doing pretty good." Rachael asserted.

"Why do you say that?" House asked with genuine curiosity.

"You're good to me. You're teaching me how to play the piano, and you help me with my homework when Mommy is home late from work. You let me hang out with you when you watch TV. You took me to that monster truck rally when Uncle James couldn't make it. That was so awesome." Rachael paused and looked down, "Today, when I was scared, you hugged and kissed me and made me feel better. You love me."

Rachael knew how House felt about her even without him saying it all the time. Still, House didn't want to be a cold bastard toward Rachael (or Michael) the way John had been with him.

"Com'ere, kid." House motioned to Rachael to come towards him. He pulled her on to his lap, balancing her on his left leg. He put his arms around her and hugged her. "If you want me to adopt you, I will."

"Yeah!" Rachael practically shouted, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly.

"Well, we'll see how happy you are about it when I won't let you date until you're thirty," House responded. "Hey, I'm kinda tired. Can you get ready for bed?"

"Are you too tired to read me a bedtime story?" Rachael asked.

House groaned with fatigue. "Okay, a very short one."

Rachael brushed her teeth and got into her pajamas. She decided that the perfect book would be "Goodnight Moon." It was short, and, even though it was really a baby book, she still found it comforting to have it read to her sometimes before she went to sleep.

"You're picking this?" House grumbled when he saw her selection. "It's so damn sappy."

"You said it had to be short," Rachael reminded him.

"True," House agreed.

After House finished the book, he got up and put it on her bookshelf, and turned off the light on her nightstand. As he turned to leave the room, she said, "Aren't you going to give me a goodnight kiss?"

"Wow, you are really pushing it, kid," House said, pretending it was a huge burden, even though he did it all the time now. "Oh, all right," he agreed with theatrical reluctance.

"Goodnight, Daddy," Rachael murmured.

"Goodnight, baby girl," House responded.

He kissed her on the forehead and pulled up her covers around her. He left the room and headed for his and Cuddy's bedroom. He quickly got ready for bed. As he peeled off his clothes, and put them in the clothes hamper, he noticed the laundry accumulating in there. He knew he'd be spending most of his time at the hospital the next few days with Cuddy and the baby and he wondered when he'd get to do any wash. _Hey, I wonder if I can guilt Wilson into it_, he smiled to himself. It was certainly worth a shot.

House sat down on the bed, grabbed some pain meds off the nightstand, and dry-swallowed them. _I'm going to have to find a place for these where Michael can't get at them_, House told himself. _But that can wait at least until tomorrow._

He thought he would fall asleep right away, but he began to think about how Cuddy would feel when she woke up. She had made rather a big deal about the whole birthing process. She had even considered a childbirth class, until House sarcastically reminded her that they were both doctors and could probably teach the damn class, not to mention deliver the baby.

He thought she might be disappointed that she had missed Michael's birth. The situation had been critical and House hadn't given it much thought at the time. Rationally, he knew he had made the right choice. But, between the trauma of the accident and changes in her hormone levels, it could turn out that Cuddy would be anything but rational. House had done what he knew was best for her and the baby, even if it was without her consent. He pondered that for a second. _So, this is how it feels to be on the other side of the decision_, he thought. There was still a tiny part of him left that resented Cuddy for what she had allowed Stacey to do to his leg. He decided it was past time to let it go.

The thought about hormones sent House's brain down another path. He remembered how much trouble Cuddy had had when Rachael was an infant, and that was without hormones being involved. He wondered if Cuddy might develop post-partum depression.

His mother was coming to help with the baby. Given how oblivious she had been to what happened to House when he was a child, he wasn't sure his mom would be very helpful. He remembered Wilson saying that Andie was done with her classes and would be working on a journal article, so she wasn't going to be teaching this summer. Maybe House would ask Andie to check on things every so often, just to be sure. Rachael was home all summer, too, and she was old enough to notice if things weren't right.

Finally, House's thoughts seemed to be calming down. Maybe he was just anticipating a lot of problems that wouldn't materialize. He drifted off to sleep, for once in his life, actually hoping for the best.


	59. Chapter 59

When House woke up again, it was still dark out. Actually very dark. He wanted to look at the clock to see what time it was when he noticed Rachael staring at him.

"Geez, kid," House exclaimed, as he nearly jumped out of his skin. He sat up in bed. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Just a little while," Rachael said softly.

"Do you need a drink of water or something?" House asked, hoping that he wouldn't actually have to get up to get it.

"I'm kind of cold, and I can't sleep," Rachael informed him. "Can I sleep with you for a while?"

House was about to protest when he realized he wasn't sleeping all that well, either. He was too used to having someone in bed with him.

"Let's go to the bathroom, and then you can come in bed here, okay?" House relented. He wanted to make sure that he didn't add wet sheets to the growing pile of laundry.

House got up, turned the light on in the bathroom and went. Rachael went in next and they flushed and washed their hands. They turned off the bathroom light and headed back to bed.

They got in on opposite sides of the bed. House's first thought was that he would still have plenty of his own space since it was a king size bed and Rachael was small. That was until she snuggled up against him. House was about to protest when he realized how difficult this day must have been for her. From the happiness of it being the last day of school to the fear she must have felt during the car accident to not knowing what was going on with her mother, to meeting her brother to her concern about being displaced in the family.

So, he pulled her head up on to Cuddy's pillow and put his arm under her neck. It was not only to comfort her. He wasn't sure how restless a sleeper she was and he didn't want her to have the opportunity to kick his leg in her sleep.

When House woke up again, it was light out. He glanced at the clock through his haze and saw it was a little before six a.m. He wanted to go back to sleep until he thought about seeing Cuddy.

House nudged Rachael. "You want to go see if your mom is awake?" he asked.

Rachael woke up and quickly responded that she did.

They showered, got dressed, and had bagels for breakfast. House had taken his motorcycle to the hospital before he started his last case, so it was still there. He had no idea what had happened to Cuddy's car. After they came back from their honeymoon, Cuddy had insisted they replace House's pathetic old clunker with some fairly safe child transport. House and Rachael used this vehicle to get them to the hospital.

As House and Rachael entered the front doors, he realized he didn't know where Cuddy was. He was about to call Chase when Nurse Brenda came out from behind the desk.

There was no way Brenda was even going to acknowledge House, let alone give him the satisfaction of knowing Cuddy's location. "Your mom is in room 623," she whispered to Rachael.

Rachael felt very grown-up as she led House to the elevator. "It's room 623," she told him. "Thanks, kid," House replied with a smirk at Nurse Brenda as the elevator doors closed.

They arrived on the sixth floor and found Cuddy's room quickly. She seemed to be asleep as they opened the door and entered.

Almost immediately, Cuddy opened her eyes. "Is that my girl?" She asked as Rachael almost flew towards her. House noticed the bruising on her arms. He picked up the chart at the foot of her bed and began reading it as Rachael hugged Cuddy.

"How are you feeling, Mommy?" Rachael asked.

"I'm pretty sore and tired, but otherwise, I'm okay," Cuddy replied. She was still in quite a bit of pain, but not nearly as much as she expected. She still had the IV in her arm, so she assumed they were giving her something fairly heavy-duty, like morphine.

"Did you see your brother yet?" Cuddy asked, trying to make sure that Rachael was focused on the happier events of the previous day.

"I held him yesterday," Rachael said proudly. "He's really small."

Cuddy laughed softly. "He's as beautiful as you were."

"I thought I was sick," Rachael puzzled.

"No, just small and beautiful," Cuddy replied.

House had had a few minutes to read her chart. He was afraid that she might have lost her spleen, but it was still there. He was also concerned that the trauma from the accident, along with the caesarian might have necessitated the removal of her uterus. He wasn't sure that she'd need it again, but he knew that it might make her depressed if it was suddenly gone. Thankfully, all her organs were intact.

"Aren't you going to say hello to _Daddy_?" Rachael giggled, knowing it was the first time she had ever called anyone that name in front of her mother.

"What?" Cuddy asked.

"You can kiss _Daddy_, if you want to," Rachael giggled again.

"We came to an understanding yesterday," House explained as he made his way to the bed and gave Cuddy a quick kiss on the lips, hoping to prevent more of that young-girl-laughing-sound that felt like a nail going through his head.

"He's going to adopt me!" Rachael proclaimed excitedly.

"Really?" Cuddy questioned. She hadn't thought either Rachael or House had considered that seriously.

_Cuddy remembered how wrenchingly painful the whole process had been for her to adopt Rachael. She could still remember the message she left on his voicemail. "I have the papers. It's final. Please come back to us." And she could remember the sound of his motorcycle pulling into her driveway, his knock on her door, her pulling him into her front hall and practically jumping him. _

_She also smiled at the memory of him making her stop so he could go to see Rachael again. He went into her room, lifted her out of her bed and carried her to the rocking chair in the corner of the room. "I won't leave you ever again," he had told the sleepy toddler. She had murmured some happy, nonsensical syllables as House clung to her, trying desperately not to cry._

Cuddy returned to the present. "I think I'm going to be here for a while," she said, attempting to hide the despondency in her voice.

"Only a few days," House responded.

"I think Michael will be able to stay here, since I'm breastfeeding," Cuddy remarked. "But I'm still going to need a lot of help when we get home. What are we going to do?"

"I was hoping, given the special circumstances, that my boss would give me some paternity leave," House replied.

"Now that I'm on maternity leave, Cameron is your boss," Cuddy remarked with a smile. "You'd better go ask her."

"She'll probably just be happy to get me out of the hospital for a while," House stated. "I think we're covered."

"A newborn is pretty demanding," Cuddy said. "We'll need some more help than just the two of us."

"You invited my mom, remember?" House asked, in a less-than-enthusiastic voice.

"You think she can't handle it, I take it?" Cuddy asked.

"Well, I don't think she can screw up a newborn too badly," House replied. "I mean, all she has to do is feed him, change him, and wash him once in a while."

"He might need to be held on occasion," Cuddy reminded him.

"Between you, Rachael, and Wilson, this kid will be lucky if his feet are allowed to touch the floor before he's five," House responded.

"What about you?" Cuddy inquired.

"I already know how to walk, more or less," House replied, pointing to his cane.

"I mean, what about you holding Michael?" Cuddy asked.

House looked down. All of a sudden, this was becoming an intense conversation. "I already have," House mumbled.

"He may need it more than once," Cuddy responded.

"I'm going to need to figure it out . . . I'm not sure I can just . . . " House stammered.

"House, you've held countless babies and children in the clinic, not to mention all the times you've held Rachael," Cuddy observed. "You can't possibly be worried that you won't know how to do it."

"Not that I won't know _how_," House stated hesitantly. "Just that I won't know when or how often."

"You seemed to figure it out with me, Daddy," Rachael interjected, reminding House and Cuddy that she was still in the room.

At that moment, a nurse arrived, wheeling in a crib with the baby.

The nurse handed the baby to Cuddy, and Rachael got close to the bed to see. Both their faces were glowing. House sat there, feeling completely on the outside. He hadn't felt like that in a long time, and he'd almost forgotten how painful it was. He jumped up. "I have to go," he mumbled and left the room as quickly as he could.

He went to the elevator. _Idiot_. House thought. _All that worrying about how Cuddy would react and you're the one can't deal with his emotions. Again._

At this point, House was off the elevator and making a beeline for his office. Luckily, there was no case and his team was down in the clinic. He locked the door to his office and to the conference room and closed the blinds.

He sat at his desk and turned on his computer. He turned it off almost immediately. He didn't want to look at his e-mails. He didn't want to read medical journal articles. Heck, he didn't even want to look at porn. He wanted to be in the room with Cuddy, Rachael and Michael. He wanted to be absolutely sure his wife was being taken care of. He wanted to see his daughter's face as she looked at her new brother. He wanted to hold his son. _Then why am I here?_ he asked himself. _What the hell is wrong with me? What am I so scared of? Am I so screwed up I just can't be happy?_

House was aware of a huge lump growing in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't swallow it down. His arms were folded on the top of the desk. He put his head down on his arms and let the tears fall.

House was not aware that Wilson was in his office. House never wanted blinds on the door that led to his balcony because he wanted to be able to spy on Wilson. For an intelligent man, he could be pretty oblivious to some things, including that if he could see Wilson, Wilson could also see him.

Wilson had watched as House came in, looking like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He saw House sit down, and snap on and quickly turn off his computer. He was now observing House crying all over the top of his desk.

Wilson knew that Cuddy, Rachael and Michael were all okay. It would take a little time for Cuddy to recuperate because of the c-section and the accident, but, unlike with Rachael, Cuddy knew now how demanding an infant could be. She had learned she couldn't do it alone, and Wilson was pretty sure this time around that she'd have no trouble asking for help – from him, Andie, Rachael's nanny and babysitters, Chase and Cameron, heck, even House's mom. Maybe that was the problem. Was the pending arrival of House's mom making House remember things from his own painful childhood? Wilson didn't know, but he was determined to help his friend.

"What the hell?" House exclaimed with surprise as Wilson came in through the balcony door. House's face was tear-stained and his eyes were red.

"I was going to ask if you were all right, but then you would berate me for asking a stupid question," Wilson stated, "Because it's obvious you are not all right. What's the matter?"

"I just found out my favorite soap has been cancelled and I'm devastated not knowing what I'll do with my afternoons," House replied sarcastically.

"I take it Cuddy, Rachael and the baby are okay," Wilson responded, completely ignoring House's caustic comments.

"Just peachy," House responded with more sarcasm. "Nothing like a serious car accident and an emergency c-section to perk up your day."

"Why aren't you with them?" Wilson asked.

When House didn't answer, and refused to look at him, Wilson knew he was at least in the ballpark.

"Let me guess," Wilson ventured. "All this family stuff has made you uncomfortable."

"Yes," House replied. "Because being slightly uncomfortable is reason enough to abandon your family."

"Abandon?" Wilson asked. "Don't you think that characterizing leaving a hospital room to hide in your office as 'abandonment' is a little melodramatic?" Wilson wasn't exactly sure what happened, but he knew House well enough by now to make an educated guess.

"Cuddy was holding Michael and Rachael was looking at them, and they all looked so, so . . . happy," House said.

"And, of course, your wife and children looking happy with each other is a cause for panic and flight," Wilson retorted.

"I felt like I didn't belong. It felt like I was an outsider who wasn't welcome . . . " House's wavering voice was betraying how awful he felt.

"Cuddy let you into her life, encouraged you to love her child, married you and had your child, all in an effort to exclude you," Wilson commented. "Yeah, that's logical."

"It's about feelings," House responded. "Even I know they're not supposed to be rational."

"It might help if they weren't totally nonsensical, though," Wilson stated. "Wait, they do make sense for you. You're terrified of being happy! You want to push yourself away before you lose everything and get hurt. The accident yesterday reminded you of how fragile everything is, and you are terrified of losing it all."

"You know," House said, "Most of my shrinks at Mayfield weren't this annoying. I could do without the Aha-I've-figured-out-House-in-ten-seconds-or-less tone that creeps into your voice all the time."

"The fact that you're so irritated means I must be getting close," Wilson guessed. "What were you talking about when you bolted?"

"I told you," House replied, "I left when Cuddy was holding Michael. In fact, that's what we were talking about."

"Technique?" Wilson asked. "I'm pretty sure between the clinic and Rachael, and the fact that it's not rocket science to begin with, that a brilliant man like yourself would have that under control."

"Not how, but when and how often," House admitted quietly.

"Babies do this thing," Wilson began, "It's noisy and studies have shown that adult nervous systems are wired to respond, it's called, wait . . . it's coming to me . . . what's the technical term, oh, yeah, 'crying'!"

"I don't know many non-medical things about babies, Wilson," House responded, "But even I know you're not supposed to pick them up every time they cry."

"Why not?" Wilson asked.

"Because they get dependent on it," House said.

"Dependent on attention and affection? Feeling that they are safe and loved?" Wilson asked. "Yeah, I can see where that would be a real problem for a baby."

"We both know the world isn't like that," House stated. "It's cruel to lead them to think that it is."

"Even if a kid is completely loved by his family, he'll learn soon enough about the unfairness and brutality of the world," Wilson said. "That's one thing you won't need to teach him, House. Or is that what you think you're supposed to teach him, because that's what you think your father was trying to teach you?"

"Spare me the psychobabble, Wilson," House replied with disgust. "And John wasn't trying to 'teach' me anything. He was just a sadistic bastard."

"And you're afraid you'll be that way with your own son," Wilson stated triumphantly.

"God, why am I best friends with such an annoying person?" House grumbled.

"Annoying because I'm right?" Wilson asked smugly.

Of course, House would never admit that, so he just stopped talking.

Wilson was pretty sure he'd gotten to the problem, or at least a major part of it. "House, do you know that it took Thomas Edison about a hundred tries before he invented the light bulb? Do you what he said about all those attempts? I didn't fail; I just found ninety-nine ways that didn't work. It's a huge thing to know how _not_ to raise a child."

"Oh, God, here come the platitudes and life lessons," House groaned. "It would be a hell of a lot more useful to know what to do instead."

"I'm sorry, but aren't I talking to the guy who tries pretty much anything to save a patient? Crazy tests, drugs in off-label uses, totally unorthodox procedures?" Wilson asked. "You have no idea what to do with your patients. You just keep trying until you find something that works."

"First of all, I do have _some_ idea most of the time," House responded. "Second, this isn't some desperate, dying patient, this is my kid. I don't want to put him through hell while I figure out what to do."

"I think you do know something about raising a kid," Wilson said.

"I don't know as much as I want to," House replied. "How do I know it's enough?"

"You don't. And you never will," Wilson stated. "Welcome to life as a human parent."

Just as House was formulating some brilliant retort, his cell rang. It was the tone for his voicemail. He punched in his code. It was Cuddy. "Please come back to us." House remembered the last time Cuddy had left a message like that.

House stood up. "I have to go now," he said as he pushed past Wilson.

"I'll be there to see them at lunch," Wilson called after him. He wasn't even sure House heard him, but he didn't care. He walked back to his office via the corridor with a smile on his face.


	60. Chapter 60

As House approached the room, he saw through the glass that Cuddy and the baby were sleeping. Rachael looked up from her coloring book as House entered.

Cuddy must have heard his cane hitting the floor because she woke up. House went to her bed and sat down carefully. She winced slightly at the movement of the bed.

"Sorry," House said quietly.

"It's okay. Mattresses with springs tend to move when you sit on them," Cuddy replied.

"No, I meant about, you know, before," House stammered.

"Yeah, I figured it might be about that, too." Cuddy smiled. "I'm sorry for pushing you about Michael. I know you will be good to him, just the way you are to Rachael."

"I'm glad you're so sure," House responded.

"I'm sure about _you_," Cuddy stated. "Me, not so much."

"What do you mean?" House asked incredulously. "You're a really good mom."

"Well, that was before the c-section and the accident," Cuddy said. "When I could still get around."

"Yeah," House replied, "The whole lack of mobility thing is such a bummer."

"Sorry," Cuddy said quietly, looking down in embarrassment. "I guess I just forget about your leg."

"The thing that defines me, and you forget?" House asked in disbelief.

"It doesn't define you for me," Cuddy insisted.

"You mean you don't even notice?" House asked.

"I didn't say that," Cuddy said. "I know it's there. It gives you pain and makes me worry about you. But no way is it everything about you. Or anything about you that really matters to me."

It was House's turn to look down. "What does really matter to you, Cuddy?"

"You know that Woody Allen quote about ninety percent of success is showing up?" Cuddy responded. "You're here . . . "

"I was stupid to run away like that," House admitted. "I could never leave you or our children. All I ever wanted is right here in this room . . . "

A tear slipped down Cuddy's cheek. House thought he knew why, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. "Are you in pain?" he asked, going into his more comfortable doctor mode.

"Not excessively," Cuddy replied. "I was just reacting to what you said."

It was getting intense again for House, although not in a bad way. He was thinking of what to say when Michael started to cry. "Excellent timing, buddy," House stated as he went to the crib. He picked up Michael and held him in his arms.

"I know you're probably going to like your mom better for the next year or so because she's got all the yummies," House said. "But, I'm going to be hanging around and loving you too, okay?"

At the sound of his father's voice, Michael seemed to calm down. He opened his eyes and looked at House. Cuddy and Rachael watched.

"His eyes are as blue as Daddy's eyes," Rachael expressed in wonder.

"We're just going to have to deal with that, Rachael," Cuddy said, looking lovingly at her husband and son.

"What?" Rachael asked, not understanding what her mother was saying.

"Nothing," Cuddy said, smiling at her daughter and stealing glances at the two most important men in her life.

Rachael returned to her coloring book. After a while, Cuddy closed her eyes to rest and fell asleep. House continued to hold Michael, humming softly and giving him kisses at random intervals. The baby fell back to sleep.

"Lunchtime!" Wilson announced as he pushed open the doors and arrived with food for himself, House and Rachael. His announcement roused Cuddy and the baby began to cry.

"I think Michael is hungry, too," Cuddy said to House. "Can I take him?"

House reluctantly handed the baby to her. He got up and closed the blinds to give her some privacy.

Cuddy pulled down her hospital gown and hoped Michael had at least gotten the idea of latching on. He seemed to find Cuddy's nipple and started to suck.

"Do you want me to leave?" Wilson asked.

"No," Cuddy said. "It's no problem as long as it's family."

Wilson was deeply touched by what Cuddy had said, and, of course, since he was Wilson, he had a hard time not showing it.

"You going to cry?" House asked in his most mocking voice. "You're such a girl."

Wilson knew House was deflecting. He wasn't sure if it was because he felt the same way that Cuddy did but he didn't want to admit it, or because he was upset about seeing how bruised Cuddy's shoulders and chest were from the accident. Maybe both.

"Let's see what we have here," Wilson said, directing everyone's attention to the food. "A dry reuben, no pickles, a peanut butter and jelly on wheat, and chicken salad." Wilson handed out the sandwiches to the appropriate recipient.

"Sorry, nothing for you," Wilson apologized to Cuddy.

"No problem. I'm not ready for real food just yet," Cuddy responded.

House reached over to Wilson's plate to grab a few fries. He quickly devoured them.

"Why do you take Uncle James' french fries when you have your own, Daddy?" Rachael inquired.

"Daddy?" Wilson questioned with genuine surprise.

"He's going to adopt me," Rachael proudly proclaimed.

"And now, the whole hospital is going to know by three this afternoon," House responded with a groan.

"I just can't believe you'd be willing to do the paperwork," Wilson stated.

"I can write," Rachael interjected. "I can fill out papers."

Rachael noticed a strange look pass across the faces of all three adults in the room. It seemed like pain, but there was also love there as well.

"Get over here," House commanded Rachael. He pulled her into his arms. "I love you, baby girl, and this is going to happen." He hugged and kissed her.

Of course, Wilson felt guilty for what he said. "Sweetie, I was just teasing, okay? House can be very determined when he wants something. I'm sure he'll be able to get through it."

"Especially with Uncle James' help," House replied. Wilson's excessive guilt was so annoying most of the time that House felt entitled to exploit it when he could.

"Would you help?" Rachael asked expectantly. Both she and House were giving him some serious puppy-dog eyes.

In addition to being unable to say no, Wilson had a thought in the back of his mind that if things continued to progress with Andie, he might want to consider adopting Catia one day. It wouldn't hurt to learn something about the process. "Okay," he agreed.

"You need to contact an attorney, don't you?" Wilson asked. "What attorney did you use when you adopted Rachael?"

A brief flash of distress crossed Cuddy's face. "We had two, actually. Sheldon Shapiro was the litigator. I think we'll need the other attorney, Ann Miller. They're both in the same firm – Marshall, Taylor and Wilkins."

"They're in Trenton, right?" Wilson said as he googled them on his phone.

"Yes," Cuddy replied.

Wilson dialed the number and handed the phone to House.

"Ann Miller," House said. "Yeah, I'll take her voicemail." "This is Dr. Gregory House. You helped my wife, Dr. Lisa Cuddy-House, when she adopted her daughter Rachael a few years ago. I'd like to adopt Rachael and I need to find out about the process. Please call me at 555-1267." House hung up. "Damn, I hate leaving a message."

"She was a lot better about returning her calls than Sheldon was, if I remember correctly," Cuddy volunteered.

"How long will it take?" Rachael asked.

"I don't know," House answered honestly.

"How long did it take for you to adopt me, Mommy?" Rachael inquired.

"A while," Cuddy vaguely admitted. She really wasn't up for a discussion of the pain and difficulty surrounding Rachael's adoption.

House noticed Cuddy's discomfort. "There were things going on then and that aren't now," House jumped in. He didn't want to go into all of it, either. "We'll ask the lawyer when she calls back, okay?"

Rachael wanted to ask what was going on then, but she was smart enough to know when Cuddy and House didn't want to talk about something. Maybe she could get Uncle James to tell her later. "Okay."

They ate their lunch. Michael was just finishing up as an aide came in with some broth and jello for Cuddy.

"Can I hold him while you eat?" Wilson asked.

Cuddy looked at House, who seemed to be agreeing reluctantly.

Cuddy handed him the baby.

"Hi, Michael James," Wilson said, "I'm your Uncle James. Did you notice that we have a name in common? Because your mom is Jewish like me, we have to pretend that you are named after a dead uncle, but you're really named after me. Technically, I'm not your uncle because I'm not a brother or brother-in-law of either of your parents. But, I am your dad's best friend. Yes, I do deserve a medal for that, but I'm just that nice of a guy."

After hearing that particular soliloquy, House's eye-roll was so emphatic that his eyes nearly went to the back of his head. "Well, I suppose it's never too early to have him work on his bullshit-detecting skills," House snarked.

Wilson held the baby for a few minutes. "I have to get back to work." The thought occurred to Wilson that House and Cuddy might like a little time to themselves, or at least alone with the baby. He also thought Rachael might be getting bored. "Hey, I'm not sure I can arrange it, but, if I can, how would you like to spend some time this afternoon with Aunt Andie and Catia?"

"Is that okay, Mommy?" Rachael asked.

"Yes, honey," Cuddy answered. "In fact, it would help me to get some rest."

"Okay," she said, with relief evident in her voice.

Wilson called Andie and took Rachael to meet her in the parking lot. He returned to work for the afternoon.

A young nurse came to get Michael, explaining haltingly that the boss of her boss's boss needed her rest.

Because of the trauma and the painkillers, Cuddy fell asleep again within ten minutes of Michael leaving.

There was an empty bed in the room. House somehow managed to wheel the bed next to Cuddy's after he had dropped the bedrails.

He was afraid to touch her because he hadn't seen the extent of her injuries. He knew she was significantly bruised, and he knew she had been cut open in at least two places. So, he just lay down in the bed next to hers and listened to her breathing. As he began to drift off to sleep, he became aware that she was snuggled against him.


	61. Chapter 61

A/N: I'll be pretty busy this weekend, so I'm not sure how much I'll get done. I'll try to get another chapter up by early next week, if I can.

* * *

It seems I've been forgetting the disclaimer on the last few chapters, so: **Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

For the next few days, they established a routine. Rachael and House would come in with Wilson in the morning. Wilson would bring lunch and take Rachael to be picked up by Andie. After work, House and Wilson would go to Andie's where everyone would eat dinner and House and Rachael would go home.

A couple of days before Cuddy was due to be discharged, House called his mom and told her it was time for her to come and stay. House picked her up at the airport.

Blythe insisted on going straight to the hospital to see her grandson. After that, House brought her home to settle in.

They went to dinner next door. They came home and Rachael went to bed.

"It's very nice of your next-door neighbor to feed you," Blythe commented.

"She and Cuddy have become friends, so I think she's doing it so Cuddy won't worry that we're subsisting on take-out," House explained.

"I can see why Lisa would worry about that. It's unhealthy and very expensive." Blythe stated. "Why don't you cook, Greg?"

"It requires a fair amount of time standing," House responded, "And my leg doesn't like that."

Blythe didn't like to think about House's handicap, so she ignored what he said and changed the subject.

"My grandson is beautiful," Blythe commented. "Except for his dark hair, he looks just like you did when you were born. I wish your father were here to see this."

House was tired and he really didn't want to get into anything, but he also believed that the truth mattered, and he couldn't simply let that statement go unchallenged. "We both know that if he were here, all he'd do is make comments about Michael starting out as a bastard, and, with me for a father, what a loser he was going to turn out to be," House stated matter-of-factly. "I'm glad the SOB isn't here to ruin it for us."

"Greg!" Blythe exclaimed, "That's a terrible thing to say about your father! He loved you and he would have loved Michael!"

Even though there was no way House could have possibly agreed with Blythe, it probably would have been better to just mumble something incoherent that sounded like regret and move on, but, of course, House was incapable of that.

"First, if he loved me, he had a damn bizarre way of showing it," House proclaimed forcefully. "Second, why don't we give up this charade? We both know he wasn't my real father."

Blythe's face took on a fearful expression at that statement. "What do you mean?"

"I suspected he wasn't my biological father since I was twelve," House informed her. "I got a sample at his funeral and did some DNA testing and confirmed it."

"What?" Blythe was in shock both that House had done the test and that he knew. "Do you have any idea what you are implying about your own mother?"

House didn't think that the real issue was his mother's behavior fifty plus years ago. But, House noticed how upset she was. He really didn't want to hurt her. "Mom, I can understand how it happened. John was away a lot, and you got lonely . . . "

"That's NOT what happened," Blythe almost spat at him.

"What did happen, then?" House asked, intrigued.

Blythe didn't want to resurrect those old ghosts, but she knew her son well enough to know that once he found a mystery, he would do almost anything to solve it.

"Your father was away," she began. "I went to a bar near the base with some of the other wives whose husbands were also away. There were some officers there, including . . . " Blythe paused, unable to actually say his name, House noticed.

"Anyway, there was a big group of us talking and laughing and enjoying ourselves," she continued. "It started to get late, and some of the officers and the women I was with started to leave. Before I knew it, my ride was gone, and he offered to drive me back to the base. You have to understand, I was young and naïve. Both enlisted men and their wives were taught to revere officers. I never imagined . . . " her voice trailed off.

House had a pretty good idea where this was going, but he was so surprised he didn't say anything and listened as she kept talking.

"Instead of taking me back to the base, he drove to this dark, secluded spot. I tried to fight him off, but he was so strong." Blythe's voice was distant and lost in the memory. "I told your father when he came back, but there was nothing we could do. He was an officer and, like a fool, I had gone with him voluntarily."

"He still attacked you, Mom," House interjected.

"People didn't see it that way in those days," Blythe responded. "What do they call it now? Date rape? We didn't even have a name for it then."

"And then you found out you were pregnant," House continued, putting the pieces together in his mind. "Why didn't you get an abortion?"

"First of all, when we learned I was pregnant, we had left Okinawa and we were stationed at Parris Island," Blythe explained. "Abortion was illegal pretty much everywhere in the States then. On an enlisted man's salary, we didn't have the money to go to a fancy doctor who did things like that for the rich girls who got pregnant. And your father was terrified of what would happen if I went to one of those men in the back alleys."

"Terrified that if anything happened to you, it would be a big scandal and wreck his career," House commented sarcastically. "And he couldn't divorce you, because that would have been another career-ending scandal. So, he was stuck with his wife's rape baby."

"He didn't want me to be injured or die or divorce me because he loved me," Blythe insisted.

House seriously doubted that John had ever loved anyone but himself, but he decided it would be better to let his mother keep at least that part of her fantasy. House was curious about something else. When he was a kid, and even later in his life, he had always wondered why they never had another child. House was indifferent to the idea of siblings, but he had always thought if there were more children in the family, it might have taken some of the heat off of him. "Mom, I have a question. Why didn't you and John have any kids after me?"

Blythe sighed dejectedly. "I had to have a caesarean when you were born and something went wrong. They had to do a hysterectomy."

"So, he was stuck with your rape baby and he couldn't have any kids of his own," House concluded. "No wonder he hated my guts."

"He didn't hate you, Greg," Blythe insisted.

"Then why did he do and say those horrendous things to me?" House countered.

"Greg," Blythe responded, "Even you have to admit that you were a difficult child. You needed discipline."

"Discipline?" House asked incredulously. "If he was allowed to do to a prisoner of war what he did to me, he would have been in violation of the Geneva Convention and could have been tried as a war criminal!"

"Stop exaggerating, Greg," Blythe responded, her voice getting louder.

"I'm not exaggerating!" House yelled back.

Rachael woke up and heard shouting coming from the family room. As it got louder, she became curious. She got out of bed, quietly opened her bedroom door and crept into the family room. She hid behind a chair. House and Blythe were so wrapped up in their argument they didn't see her.

"Well, then, at least stop saying those terrible things about him," Blythe shouted. "He loved you!"

"There is no way in hell that man loved me!" House shouted back. "Get your head out of fantasyland! I understand why he wouldn't love me, but couldn't he just have left me the hell alone?"

Rachael was becoming a little scared at all the yelling. She had never seen House this upset.

House should have waited for Blythe to respond, but he was on a roll and there was no stopping him. "Rachael isn't my biological child, either. If I wanted to be a prick about it, I could hate her because she's the bastard of a teenager too horny to keep his pants zipped up and a pathetically lonely teenager too stupid to know she was being used, left to die in a crack house . . . "

Rachael didn't hear the "if I wanted to," or the "I could," parts of House's speech. She only heard the bad things he said about the circumstances of her birth. She forgot all about House agreeing to adopt her. She jumped up from behind the chair and ran crying to her room.

House and Blythe both saw her take off, and they both knew she had heard at least some of what they were saying. "Shit!" House exclaimed as he limped toward her room.

He hesitated at the closed door. What the hell was going to say to her? How did he explain what he meant? He, of all people, knew apologies were useless.

He went back out into the family room.

"Aren't you going to talk to her?" Blythe asked.

"And say what, exactly?" House responded bitterly. "I only called you a bastard to make a point about my own shitty father, sorry."

"I saw you at the wedding, Greg," Blythe stated. "I know you love that child. You can't leave it like this. You have to tell her that."

Since Blythe seemed to believe that John had loved House, he wondered if she had ever had a conversation like this with his father. _Not a snowball's chance in hell_ he thought. It wouldn't have mattered, anyway, since John would have kept doing what he did to House. Words didn't matter, actions did.

House had an idea. He limped to the desk in the other corner of the family room. He opened the bottom drawer and grabbed the accordion file he found there and headed toward Rachael's room. He only hoped she hadn't locked the door to the bedroom and cried herself to sleep.

House knocked on the door. "Can I come in, kid?" She didn't say anything, but House did hear some movement, including the sound of some bed springs. She was probably sitting on the bed and got under the covers to pretend she was sleep.

When House entered, she was laying on her side in bed facing away from him with the covers up to her neck, like she was trying to hide from him.

"I know you're awake," House announced as he made his way to the other side of the bed and turned on the lamp on her nightstand. She opened her eyes and looked at him with such anguish that it nearly broke House's heart.

"I'm sorry about what I said before," House said.

"Okay," Rachael replied.

House could tell she wasn't convinced, and he didn't blame her. "Listen, I know those are just words. So, I brought this." House showed her the file and opened it. He took out some papers and began to explain what they were.

"This are the forms the lawyer sent me that I had to fill out to start the adoption process," House said. "Actually these are copies of the ones I filled out and sent back to her, and here is the certified mail receipt that tells me she got them at her office."

Rachael looked at the forms. She recognized House's handwriting. It looked like many papers and it also looked like House had written a lot on each one. Rachael knew he had only called the lawyer about a week ago. That was a lot of work he had done quickly.

"Are you done?" Rachael asked.

"Not even close," House answered as he pulled out more papers. "This is a printout of an internet order to get copies of my birth certificate."

"Why do they need that?" Rachael asked.

"I don't know, but they do," House replied as he pulled out even more papers. "This is request for a criminal background check, and these are fingerprint cards." House didn't mention his problems with Tritter and his night spent in jail for contempt. The attorney had said she was sure they could get around that. He also didn't mention the paperwork for the check in the child abuse registry. He knew there would be no issues there, but he didn't want to bring up a potentially upsetting topic.

"And here is the appointment card for the interview with social worker," House said, handing it to her. He already had it in his electronic calendar, but he saved the card for some reason. It had come in handy after all.

"Wow, this is a lot of stuff," Rachael marveled.

"And I'm pretty sure there will be more," House responded. "All just for you, kid." He collected the papers and put them back in the file.

"I'm sorry I thought you didn't love me," Rachael said. "It's just that some of the things you said we so mean . . . "

"I know," House said. "It was a shitty way for you to find out that stuff, too. And I can't take it back. But I don't care who your biological parents were or how or where your mother found you. I just know that you're my daughter now and I love you."

Rachael threw her arms around House's neck and kissed him. House hugged and kissed her in return.

"We okay, now, kid?" House asked with the hint of a smile.

"Yeah," Rachael said. "Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight, baby girl," House replied.

House turned off the light, left the room and closed the door. He still hadn't finished the conversation with his mother.

He went out to the family room and Blythe wasn't there. He went to the door of the guest room and knocked.

"I'm getting ready for bed," Blythe responded without opening the door.

"Okay," House said. "Goodnight."

"Good night, dear," Blythe replied.

House was surprised that she wasn't mad at him, but she always did hate confrontation, so he assumed she was avoiding him. It wasn't like he really wanted to continue the conversation, anyway. There was no purpose. She had been traumatized and created her own world of a loving husband and a strict but fair father. The fact that it was totally separate from reality, at least his reality, was something he was sure she didn't want to deal with. It wasn't like it would change anything now, anyway.

He knew if he tried to go to sleep, he wouldn't be able to, so he sat down at the piano. Since the piano was close to the guest room, he decided to play some of his mother's favorite songs. It must have been a difficult evening for her, too, and he hoped that she would find it soothing to hear some music she liked. At this point in their lives, it was all her could do for her, and for himself.


	62. Chapter 62

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

Cuddy and Michael came home the next day. House thought it would be great not to have to schlep to the hospital every day to see them, but he was starting to be concerned that it was going to be close quarters with everyone there. Thankfully, his mother hadn't mentioned their conversation of the previous day.

House would still have to say something about it to Cuddy, just because he was going to have to tell her about what Rachael had overheard him saying to his mom. He was pretty sure she'd kill him for that, so he was hopeful he wouldn't have to tell her the rest of it because he'd already be dead.

He didn't have the chance to tell Cuddy anything, since Rachael told her.

They were lying in bed that night.

"House," Cuddy asked not sounding as angry as he expected. "Why did you tell Rachael about her birth parents and how I found her?"

"My mom and I were having an argument about John, and it just sort of came out," House admitted.

"Rachael did say you were yelling at each other," Cuddy commented. "What were you talking about?"

"Do I have to go into it?" House said.

"When you got my daughter involved," Cuddy stated firmly, "You lost your privilege to keep it a secret."

"I don't think she heard what we were talking about before I mentioned her birth parents," House ventured, still trying to shut down the discussion if he could.

"Well," Cuddy said, "If that's the case, why did she ask me what a 'rape baby' was?"

"Shit," House exclaimed. "Sorry for putting you in that position."

"I wasn't thrilled about having to explain the concept," Cuddy stated, "But that's not why I'm asking you. What were you talking about?"

House really wanted to deflect at this point. "My mom and I watch the same soap, and we were arguing about how one of the characters got pregnant."

"Loud enough for Rachael to hear through a closed door?" Cuddy asked incredulously. "Contentiously enough that it caused you to blurt out Rachael's birth situation? Just tell me what was really going on, House."

"Okay," House conceded. "My mom was giving me all this bullshit about how John really loved me, and I told her about the DNA test and I asked her to stop pretending that John was my real father."

"Wow," Cuddy said. "How did she react?"

"I thought she was more concerned about her reputation than about what it meant to me," House answered, "so I was trying to be nice and tell her that I understood how lonely she might have been with John away so much. Turns out she didn't have an affair, she was raped by an officer."

"Oh, House," Cuddy replied.

"So, I'm the rape baby," House said. "I know you've had your own experience with this, so if you don't want to talk about it, I understand completely."

Cuddy did have her own experience come flooding back to her. She was silent for a while. House hoped that was it, until she spoke up. "Please tell me what happened."

"Well, she didn't get an abortion because it was illegal and they couldn't afford the expense of going to a doctor who would do it properly. John was afraid that if she went to a back alley, something bad would happen and the scandal would ruin his career. He was also afraid a divorce would do the same thing."

"Your mom said that?" Cuddy questioned.

"No," House replied. "My mom is in her own fantasy world where John wouldn't let her get an abortion or divorce her because he loved her, he loved me, and he was just 'disciplining' a 'difficult' child. It doesn't matter. She didn't have the abortion, and I got to live through hell."

"I know you think it's pointless to speculate about things," Cuddy said, "But you're forgetting that they had another option."

"What option?" House asked, momentarily leaving his bitterness and becoming curious.

"They could have put you up for adoption," Cuddy replied.

"How could they do that?" House asked. "My mom is pregnant, and then the baby is gone? How would they explain that?"

"Your grandparents were alive then, weren't they?" Cuddy questioned. When House nodded, she continued, "Well, she could have gone to see them for an extended period, had you, given you up for adoption and then come back to John."

"I guess," House responded. "It might have been better to grow up in an orphanage. I probably would have been abused less."

"You would have been adopted," Cuddy replied with a definitive voice.

"This was over fifty years ago," House stated. "How can you be so sure?"

"When I first became Dean, a few years before I hired you, I had an assistant named Marge Nelson. She was in her sixties and she had one child, a son, who was in his thirties," Cuddy said.

"Fascinating," House commented sarcastically. "Since you actually remember her name, I'm sure she was the only competent assistant you ever had. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"If you'll let me finish," Cuddy replied with exasperation, "She told me she had always wanted a larger family but that she couldn't have children because she was a diabetic. She wasn't able to adopt any more kids because in the fifties they tried to match the kids' looks to the parents to make it less obvious they were adopted. She and her husband were Scandinavian, and there were very few babies available with light skin and blue eyes."

"So, I would have been a hot commodity, eh?" House asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Until your personality developed, yes," Cuddy deadpanned. "Seriously, how different would your life have been if you had been raised by a father that wanted and loved you? Parents who would recognize and nurture your talents and your genius . . . "

"Or, I could be an asshole because of genetics, have pissed off an entirely new set of parents, and still wind up as a misanthropic bastard," House stated. Even though he was trying to joke about it, he didn't want to think about the possibility that he could have actually spent most of his life not feeling unloved and unworthy. It just hurt too much.

Cuddy had really pushed House and she wasn't sure she could get him to talk much more, but she was still worried about the impact of the revelation on his already negative view of himself. The last thing she wanted was for him to internalize all this and start another downward spiral of severe depression.

She decided to try an indirect approach.

"I'm curious," she began, trying as hard as she could to sound unemotional, even though the way she felt was totally the opposite. "About seven years ago, you had that pregnant rape victim as a clinic patient. You encouraged her to have an abortion. Do you still think you did the right thing?"

House pondered this. "If I knew then what I know now, I would have been positive I was right. In fact, I was so miserable then, I practically would have forced her to do it, just to save the innocent spawn everything I had suffered. Now, I'd have to think about it."

"What's changed?" Cuddy asked.

"I care about you, Rachael and Michael, and I'm not unhappy that I'm alive to be a part of your lives," he replied.

Cuddy smiled, cupped his face with her hand and caressed his cheek with her thumb to acknowledge what he had said.

"Can I ask you something?" House inquired. "After what Mr. Junior Prom did to you . . . if you had become pregnant, would you have had an abortion?"

"I'm sure my mom would have insisted," Cuddy replied without hesitation, "just to avoid the 'scandal.'"

"But what would _you_ have wanted to do?" House asked.

"I don't know," Cuddy answered honestly. "I was fifteen and I didn't have a clue about anything. I do think that if I had an abortion and tried to get pregnant later, and failed the way I did after the fertility treatments, I would have felt somehow that it was a punishment."

"Especially if you had some asshole employee telling you it was a good thing it didn't work because you would suck as a mother," House said with venom, recalling his own cruel remarks at the time.

"Maybe if I truly took the time to understand just how much pain the employee was in and how afraid he was, I might have understood that he was lashing out rather than trying to hurt me," Cuddy replied.

"Why do you always forgive me?" House asked.

"Because you are worthy of being forgiven," Cuddy replied. "Because you have as much right as anyone else to be loved. Because you are magnificent and I adore you."

"Magnificent?" House questioned. "You know we have a few weeks before I can demonstrate that?"

"I have almost enough memories of past noteworthy events to keep me going until then," Cuddy responded with a smile.

"I don't!" House exclaimed.

"I hope you're not expecting me to have sex with you less than two weeks after I gave birth," she stated. "As much as I want to, I'm not sure I can."

"No," House replied. "I just need to look at you."

"I'd rather you didn't," she responded. "It's pretty ugly."

"I'll be the judge of that," House insisted.

He pulled back the covers and pulled gently at Cuddy's nightgown. She lifted it over her head and looked away in embarrassment. She had seen herself in the mirror before she left the hospital. She was heavily bruised and had two large incisions, and her abdomen was still very swollen from being pregnant. She waited for a snarky comment from House, or at least a sound that let her know he was disgusted with how she looked.

She didn't expect that he would touch her. Those long, exquisite fingers of his started at her neck and lightly touched her as they traced the bruises. They traveled down the front of her, and delicately followed the incisions.

She heard a noise from him then. It wasn't a grunt of disgust but a sigh of pain. He knew exactly what it felt like to look at your own body, a body that you were once proud of, and no longer recognize it. A least she had the chance to get most of it back to the way it had been. He never would. She couldn't stop the tears from sliding down the sides of her face.

His hand finally rested gently on her belly. She decided she had to look at him. She was completely surprised by the look of happiness on his face.

"How could you go through all that and still be so beautiful?" he asked softly.

"Are you looking at me or thinking about some porn you've seen?" Cuddy asked defensively.

"Porn sucks," House admitted, possibly for the first time in his life. "It's fake. You can only smell, taste and touch a real woman. If you happen to be with one that makes every part of you feel good, that's just a bonus. And if she loves you back . . . "

House's voice broke as tears started down his face. He carefully slid his arms around Cuddy and gently pulled her next to him. She had her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

After a while, House moved her head away from him. He looked into her eyes and began to plant the softest of kisses on her face.

Cuddy felt his erection pressing against her. She reached for him.

"What are you doing?" House asked as her hands closed around his cock.

"Just because I can't doesn't mean you have to be frustrated," Cuddy replied.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" House asked.

"My hands are working just fine," Cuddy stated. "And, if I'm not mistaken, you're the one who's up."

House barely had the chance to smile at her comment before her skilled hands made his head fog up with desire. Between his work schedule before the accident and Cuddy's extended hospital stay, it had been over three weeks since he had had any kind of release at all.

She began with light pressure and moving fairly slowly. As his erection reached its full height, she used greater force and speed. As one hand continued in motion, she used her other hand to pull back his foreskin and rub his exposed tip ever so lightly.

House grunted and began thrusting into her hands. He exploded only a few seconds later, spraying on to her chest and overflowing her hands.

He was lying there, floating in bliss when he heard the water running in the bathroom. Cuddy slowly emerged, walking very gingerly. Her chest was damp from where she had cleaned it, and she was carrying a wet washcloth for him. He felt the warmth on his abdomen and then the washcloth moving southward.

"I can . . . do . . . " House mumbled.

"You can barely form a sentence," Cuddy responded. "Just let me finish."

Uncharacteristically for Cuddy, she simply tossed the used washcloth on the floor when she was done. _She must be really tired_ House thought. _I hope Michael sleeps for a while before his next feeding._

It didn't take long for both of them to fall asleep.


	63. Chapter 63

**Disclaimer: Don't Own Etc., Except OCs**

The next three weeks passed without incident. Cuddy was slowly recuperating. House didn't go to work, but kept in touch with his team just to keep himself from getting bored.

It turned out that Blythe was competent when it came to taking care of an infant. She helped Cuddy with Michael's bath and at bedtime. She also looked after him when Cuddy needed a nap, and ran to get things at the store. House had just enough distrust of his mother to step in when he felt it was necessary, whether she did or not.

Rachael went over to Andie's most afternoons to play with Catia, and Andie, Wilson and the girls came over with dinner every night.

By Saturday of that week, Andie thought House and Cuddy needed to get out, so she invited them next door for dinner.

Since the houses weren't close together, it was a several hundred-foot walk to get from House and Cuddy's front door to Andie's front door. House noticed how hard it was for Cuddy. Wilson came over to walk with Cuddy to make sure she made it, while House carried Michael in his carrier and Blythe carried the diaper bag. House cursed his leg and was envious of Wilson because he was able to support Cuddy and House wasn't. So, on top of his already less than sunny disposition, he was resentful and sullen. Adding to things was his case of cabin fever, and the fact that he hadn't (and wouldn't or couldn't) resolve anything with his mom. All in all, it was going to be an interesting evening.

Andie and Wilson had made a wonderful dinner. It was lasagna, salad, garlic bread and tiramisu, exactly like the first meal they had shared together when Cuddy and House had moved in and Wilson had helped. Andie called it Italian comfort food.

After they were finished and the dishes were in the dishwasher, the girls went to the family room to watch a movie and the adults lingered at the table, talking and passing Michael to each other.

"He's exquisite," Andie proclaimed when it was her turn to hold the baby. "Not that it's surprising with such good-looking parents."

"Quit sucking up," House growled at her.

"First, it's an objective fact that you and your spouse are good-looking," Andie responded. "Second, how can it be considered 'sucking up'? Sucking up usually involves something to gain. Now, if I really wanted something from a neighbor, the guy on the other side of the cul-de-sac has a pick-up with a snow plow."

"I can see you going for a guy who can do something with his hands," House stated, "instead of some Jewish guy who doesn't even know one end of a hammer from another."

"Hey!" Wilson exclaimed. "I think it was a Jewish guy, namely me, who helped you put together all the furniture in your son's nursery. There were power tools and everything."

"I remember, sweetie," Andie replied, reassuring him. "It was really macho and sexy. By the way, the guy with the snow plow doesn't have many teeth. And he's about seventy. Or, at least he _looks_ about seventy . . ."

Wilson and Andie smiled at each other and kissed. Andie handed the baby to him.

"Hi. Michael James," Wilson said, playfully scrunching his face at the baby.

"Why do you always call him that?" House asked with irritation. He understood why Wilson did it and he really didn't care if Wilson did, but he was still resentful of Wilson helping Cuddy and he was so he was in the mood to stir the pot.

"That _is_ his name, isn't it?" Wilson said.

"Yeah, but you don't have to use his entire name every time you see him," House said, his annoyance evident.

"What's your problem?" Wilson asked, starting to feel irritated himself.

"Well," Blythe interjected, trying to smooth things over, as always, "When Greg was bad and his father was correcting him, John always used his full name."

"My mom used to use my full name when she was pissed off at me," Andie jumped in, "Which was most of the time."

"Were you a difficult child, like Greg?" Blythe asked.

"Yes, I was difficult," Andie said, "I wanted to breathe, eat, wear clothes, stay dry, take up space, be loved . . . "

"That's not being difficult, dear," Blythe responded.

"It was, according to my mother," Andie said ruefully.

"I'm sorry that she felt and acted that way," Blythe stated.

"Are you sorry that John treated me like shit?" House asked bitterly. "You've never said that."

"Greg," Blythe's voice took on a warning tone. "You know you were a difficult child – willful, disobedient, always getting into trouble . . . "

"Is that what you told yourself, so you could look away when he . . . he. . . .," House stammered angrily.

Blythe glared at House. "There were times when we didn't know what to do with you! We had to do something!"

"Something? Andie asked. "Something like abuse? My father wasn't there to protect me from my mother," Andie stated. "Why didn't you protect Greg?"

Blythe was just asked the one question she feared more than any other. She became completely defensive. "You weren't there! You know nothing about my family and my son!"

"You're right," Andie said quietly. "I don't know anything about your family. But here's something I do know. I would give just about anything for even one more day with my Jake, no matter how 'difficult' he was. You have no idea how lucky you are to have seen your child grow up, let alone become a doctor, and a great one at that. Have you ever taken any pride in anything he's accomplished? Or do you always think of him as just a pain in the ass?"

A long silence followed. Wilson looked proudly at Andie, amazed at her strength and fire. Cuddy was both grateful to Andie for saying what she had always wanted to, and concerned about the fallout. House was still not in a happy mood (not that he ever was), but it had improved considerably. He had a very short list of people he respected and cared about – it was pretty much limited to his wife and children, and Wilson. He had decided to add one more person to that group.

"I think I'd like to go back to Greg and Lisa's house now," Blythe said, shakily.

"I'm a little tired, too," Cuddy admitted. She took the baby from Wilson and put him in his carrier.

"I'll walk you back," Wilson said.

Blythe, House, Michael, Rachael and Cuddy, with Wilson's help, moved slowly across the lawn between the houses.

Once they made it to the front door, Wilson said goodnight and went back.

Cuddy went to the bedroom to get ready for bed. Rachael went to her room to do the same. House took Michael out of his carrier and brought him to his bassinet in House and Cuddy's bedroom.

Rachael was ready for bed. "Is Mommy going to come and kiss me goodnight?" she asked.

"She's pretty tired," House informed her. "Can you settle for just me tonight?"

"What does 'settle for' mean?" Rachael asked.

"It means that I know you want your mom more, but I'm the only one here to kiss you goodnight, so is that okay?" House asked.

"Who says I want Mommy more?" Rachael asked intently. "I love you just as much."

House felt that now familiar pang in his chest that occurred when he was reminded that he loved someone. It was a feeling he didn't even know existed for most of his life. "So, it's all right if it's just me that kisses you, then?"

"Yes, Daddy." Rachael said earnestly.

House kissed her and gave her a lengthy hug.

He limped to the guest room and reluctantly knocked on the door. "Do you need anything, Mom?"

"No, Greg," she replied tersely. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he replied and walked to the master suite.

Cuddy was in bed and was just finishing feeding and burping Michael. House took him, gave him a kiss and put him in his bassinet.

"Interesting evening," Cuddy ventured, not sure how House would react to it all. "It's funny, my mom is actively hostile and judgmental, and your mom avoids confrontation to the point of passivity."

"Each having her own unique and extreme dysfunction," House responded. "How special."

"Are you upset that I wasn't the one who confronted your mother?" Cuddy asked.

"I'm glad it wasn't you," House replied. "Someone in this family has to be on speaking terms with her."

"She still speaks to you," Cuddy stated.

"Just barely," House said.

"Does that bother you?" Cuddy questioned.

"At this point, it doesn't really matter," House answered. "When I needed her to speak up, she didn't."

"Do you hate her for that?" Cuddy asked.

"No," House replied.

"I do," Cuddy said quietly.

"Don't," House told her. "It's wasted emotion. It won't change or fix anything."

"I wish it was that easy for me," Cuddy confessed. "How do you do it?"

"It isn't easy for me, either," House responded. "I've just had a lot more practice than you have."

Cuddy sighed sadly, put her hand on House's chest and looked into his eyes. He took her hand in his and kissed it.

"I'm beginning to understand why Wilson likes Andie," House said.

"Likes?" Cuddy questioned. "He's well into love, and even beyond."

"What's beyond love?" House asked.

"How I feel about you," Cuddy replied quietly.

"Do you really think Wilson loves Andie as much as I love you?" House asked, sounding detached -- his loving her like an objective fact, similar to gravity.

"I don't know," Cuddy said, "But you can get your ass over here now."

House peeled off his clothes and climbed into bed. He gently spooned with Cuddy as they fell asleep.


	64. Chapter 64

A/N: This is a short Wiles chapter, so if that's not your thing, please feel free to skip it.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc. Except OCs**

Next door, Catia was already asleep.

Wilson and Andie were in bed, talking.

"You were amazing tonight," Wilson stated.

"We haven't even done anything yet," Andie said, sounding confused.

"No," Wilson responded, smiling at the implication. "I meant what you said to Blythe about her failure to protect House. That took some real gonads."

"Oh, that. Actually, I feel badly about it," Andie confessed.

"Why?" Wilson asked.

"I don't usually confront frail eighty-year-olds about things that happened forty or fifty years ago that are long past fixing," Andie replied.

"She's not frail," Wilson stated. "At least not by the medical definition. And she spent years thinking that what happened to my, um, what happened to House was okay."

"Your what?" Andie asked curiously.

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked in return.

"You referred to Greg as 'my,' " she replied. "Your what?"

"I could say my friend," Wilson answered, hoping Andie wouldn't notice his vague language.

"You could," she responded. "But what would you really say?"

"He's my, um, family . . . my brother . . . " Wilson stammered.

A smile spread across Andie's face.

"What?" Wilson asked tentatively. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," Andie said, "How hot it would be to watch the two of you have sex."

"Eww!" Wilson exclaimed. "I am so _not_ having sex with someone I love like a brother."

"Your disgust is really very sweet," Andie stated with a smirk. "Is it the homosexuality or the incest you can't handle?"

"Yes," Wilson answered. "And if you want me to keep that lasagna down, we really need to stop talking about this."

"I'm fine with not talking at all," Andie said. "Besides, now that I think of it, I'm not very good at sharing."

They reached for each other and their lips connected in a passionate kiss.

"So, if I ever stray . . . " Wilson began.

"I'll cut them off and make soup out of them, _dear_," Andie replied in her sweetest voice.

"Well," Wilson said, smiling. "I guess I have my motivation to stay faithful. That, and my respecting and loving you more than anyone else I've ever been with."

Andie began to reach for Wilson's face to touch it, but Wilson stopped her.

"My turn," he said softly as he began to caress her face and kiss her.

He finished with her face and traveled down her throat and neck, kissing and nibbling ever so slightly.

When he got to her breasts, he paused for a second just to look. She had, as House had observed once, a great set of knockers. Wilson had told him to keep his eyes elsewhere, but he was nevertheless proud of having such a beautiful, voluptuous woman at his side. All three of his exes had been pencil thin, and Amber had been long and leggy. He had never allowed himself the sensuality of a woman with curves, but he was certainly enjoying it now.

Andie moaned as Wilson grasped her breasts and caressed her nipples with his thumbs. He leaned down to lick them ever so lightly, knowing by now that this was more of a turn-on for her than if he were rougher.

His mouth traveled down her taut abdomen and he began kissing along the line just above her pubic hair as his fingers combed gently through her curls. Wilson had never been as big a fan of porn as some people he knew were, partly because it was easier, with his charm, for him to get the real thing, at least for a brief encounter. The other reason he was sometimes less than enthusiastic about porn was how fake it was – phony boobs, and other obvious plastic surgery, and the fact that a lot of the women shaved their pubic hair. Wilson was seriously turned on by the sight of a real woman's body, so he saw most of these so-called enhancements as lessening a woman's attractiveness.

His hand found her wetness. His finger played around her entrance for a while, stroking her lips. First one finger, then two, plunged into her, rotating and scissoring while his thumb barely stroked her clit.

"Ummm," Andie murmured. Wilson could hear the intense arousal in her voice.

He removed his hand and Andie made a sound of disapproval, feeling the emptiness. Wilson distracted her with his tongue, slipping in and out of her and finding her clit. He gave her feather-light licks. He could feel her tensing, close to orgasm.

His own erection had reached full height. He slipped into her, filling her completely. She groaned with approval.

He began thrusting, finding that spot that made everything else go away – there were only the two of them and the rapture they gave each other with their bodies.

Her orgasm came first, the pleasure radiating out from her center and enveloping her entirely. His followed next, his whole body shaking with his release.

After, they clung tightly to each other.

"I adore you, James Wilson," Andie whispered.

Wilson was overcome with his own emotions. "I . . . " He croaked as he became aware of something leaking from his eyes down the sides of his face.

Andie rested her thumbs on his temples and caught his tears. She smiled in spite of herself. "Even when your eyes are doing . . . that," she didn't want to point out Wilson was crying and possibly hurt his male ego, "You are still _so_ beautiful."

Wilson managed to take a deep breath and compose himself. For one of the few times in his life, he was at a loss for words. He simply couldn't explain how much he loved her. He pulled her as close to him as he possibly could and hoped his body would convey what he felt.

They drifted off to sleep on a cloud of bliss.


	65. Chapter 65

A/N: A longish chapter. I'm not sure how realistic the social worker interview is, but I thought I would use the opportunity to reveal something about House. So, no flames from people in the social work or adoption fields telling me how ridiculous this scenario is, please : D

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc, Except OCs**

Blythe stayed three more weeks, doing her damndest to avoid conversations of any significance. At this point, no one blamed her. House took her to the airport and saw her off. He thought perhaps he should have resented her, but he really just felt sorry for her. His disappointment with her was so deep-seated and long standing that there really was, sadly enough, nothing more they could say to each other. House was pretty sure that the one thing that would make a difference, her expressing regret that she hadn't done enough to protect him when he was a child, would never pass her lips. Beyond that, any conversation they had could only be superficial.

Cuddy was feeling much better, and, while she wasn't quite ready to get back on the treadmill of work and taking care of her family, she was pretty sure she'd have to return soon. The Board wasn't exactly thrilled with how long she'd been away already. She had decided to take two more weeks, just to make sure she had a good nanny and back-up babysitters in place.

House had never been involved in hiring Rachael's nanny, since that was before he and Cuddy had gotten together. But the fact that he knew little, if anything, about the qualifications required didn't stop him from "advising" Cuddy. These were _his_ children that someone was going to be taking care of, after all.

The only thing that saved Cuddy's sanity was that House's team caught a couple of cases that they were seriously struggling with. Even pulling in Cameron and Chase didn't help. Cuddy encouraged House to go in to work to advise them. Otherwise, she was afraid House would hire the first blond-haired, blue-eyed, leggy college student from Sweden they interviewed, regardless of her childcare credentials.

His absence allowed her to interview and employ a very well qualified, plump, short, bubbly woman who was originally from Guatemala. She told herself that Daniela would help both Rachael and Michael understand their next door neighbor better, and she could teach them Spanish. The fact that she was, to House, the most unattractive woman Cuddy could possibly have hired was just a side benefit.

Cuddy had two retired schoolteachers as back-up babysitters. The summer was waning and she thought that meant Andie would be returning to her teaching schedule. To Cuddy's relief, Andie informed her that she was going to take a year-long sabbatical to write a book. She also told Cuddy she was through a substantial portion of it and hoped to complete it within the next few weeks. Andie would have to spend a lot of time editing and proofreading, but she would be available next door, should Cuddy's nanny and two babysitters fall through.

With all that in place, Cuddy determinedly, if reluctantly, returned to work.

In the meantime, in addition to any interesting cases his team was working on, House completed the adoption paperwork for Rachael. Although the attorney had told him that his background of drug use, legal troubles and time spent in a mental hospital wouldn't be a problem, House was pretty sure she was wrong. How could any of this not come up and bite him in the ass?

House had his appointment with the social worker in her office as the end of the month neared.

Jennifer Walsh was in her late thirties, married, with one child. For the first ten years of her career, she had worked directly with abused kids. Even though she had wanted to continue after her daughter was born, she simply couldn't handle it anymore. (She knew seeing babies and young children hurt was something she could no longer deal with.) She had moved into the somewhat less stressful area of placement and adoption of foster children. She especially liked the part of her job that dealt with adoption. In most cases, there were happy endings. She also considered her experience with abused kids useful for detecting hidden problems and saving kids from potentially bad situations.

Ordinarily, with two well-paid professional parents, a nice home and a stepfather who wanted to adopt his wife's child, the interview was mostly a formality. Jennifer had thought that would be the case here, until she received the file. It was voluminous and full of things that were usually red flags when it came to an undesirable situation. The attorney, Ann Miller, who Jennifer had worked with on other adoptions by well-heeled parents, had assured Jennifer that even though Doctor House had had issues in the past, everything was fine now. Although Jennifer had no reason to distrust Ann, she simply couldn't dismiss the potential problems she saw. If nothing else, a judge would have trouble granting approval for the adoption if Jennifer's report didn't thoroughly address the issues in the file. So, this interview had become very important.

House hadn't slept well the night before the interview. That morning he had choked down some breakfast, showered, shaved, and put on a suit. Although he considered it one of the ugliest things he'd ever seen, he was even wearing the tie Rachael had given him for his last birthday. Rachael said it would bring him good luck. For once, House was actually able to bite his tongue and refrain from telling her there was no such thing, at least for him.

So, he sat across from Jennifer, trying to hide the fact that he was a nervous wreck. He had no idea why he was so anxious. After all, it wasn't like anything was going to change if this fell through. Rachael would still be Cuddy's daughter, and House would still be Cuddy's husband, and they would all still be living together in their home with Michael. If this hadn't mattered so damn much to the kid, House probably wouldn't even be doing it. But it did matter to her. Very much. He just didn't want to fail at the first real thing he had ever tried to do for her. He'd let a lot of people down in his life, even the people he loved, but they were adults and he'd always figured they could handle it, or walk away if they couldn't. Rachael was a child and that would automatically make the disappointment harder for her. And he would still be there if this didn't work, so she couldn't walk away. So, as far as he was concerned, this _had_ to happen.

When House entered the office, Jennifer handed him a menu from a deli House had passed on his way there.

"Please select something, and don't forget a beverage," she told him.

"Isn't nine a.m. a little early for lunch?" House asked.

"Yes, it is," Jennifer stated. "But I think we'll be hungry by noon, and I would rather not waste the time required to go somewhere to eat. Besides, it will be more private here."

House swallowed nervously. "This appointment is going to take until after lunch?"

"At least," Jennifer said. "And I hope you like Chinese food, because that's the closest delivery for dinner."

"Um, sure," House stammered. "I'll have a dry reuben, no pickles, chips and cream soda. Do you need to know what I want for dinner, too?"

Jennifer wrote down his lunch choices, along with her own and got up to hand the note to the administrative assistant in the outer office. She had actually been kidding about the Chinese food for dinner, but she was glad to see House was taking this seriously. "No, we can wait on that."

"So, let's get started." Jennifer said as she returned to her desk. She noticed that House was bouncing his cane on the floor, and he looked like he might be sweating. She didn't want him a complete wreck, or he wouldn't be able to answer any questions. She decided to start with something neutral, like a timeline.

"So, it appears you have known Rachael her entire life," Jennifer began.

"Her birth mother was my patient," House replied. "She had eclampsia and we couldn't save her. Rachael's birth grandparents didn't want to raise the baby, so Dr. Cuddy agreed to take her as a foster child."

"I have that file here, also, along with the adoption file for Dr. Cuddy," Jennifer stated. "Let's get back to talking about your relationship with Rachael."

"Well, we didn't have much of one at first, since Cuddy and I weren't together then," House explained.

"When did you first become involved in Rachael's life?" she asked.

"About six months after I came back from Mayfield," House said, "Cuddy and I started seeing each other, so Rachael was about a year old."

"That's interesting," Jennifer stated. "There is no mention of you in the adoption file a year later."

"We decided we needed a break from each other," House ventured. He was becoming concerned that Jennifer would find out why they really stopped seeing each other – namely, that they were afraid that House being part of Cuddy and Rachael's life would jeopardize the adoption. He didn't want it to look like they were gaming the system.

"From the file, it appears that she had rather a difficult time with the adoption," Jennifer noted.

"The birth father wasn't ready to give her up, but he was in no position to raise her himself," House told her. "He wanted Cuddy to invest her life and heart in Rachael for seven or ten years as a foster parent, have Rachael love Cuddy as her mother and then, when _he_ was ready, he would just stop by one day to pick her up. Selfish bastard."

"For someone who wasn't involved, you seem to know a lot about it and have formed some strong opinions," Jennifer observed.

"Cuddy told me about it after we got back together," House replied.

"According the to dates on your place of residence form, and the dates the adoption was finalized, you moved in with Dr. Cuddy the same month," Jennifer read, looking over the various documents. "In fact, the adoption papers show a date in the third week of the month, and your forms show you moved in by the end of that month. Assuming it would take you a few days to pack up, it appears that you moved in pretty much as soon as you found out the adoption was final."

House looked down at the carpet in her office, desperately trying to think of an explanation. He couldn't come up with anything that made sense, other than the truth. "Listen, I hope you don't think we were playing games, but you can see my history. We stopped seeing each other because we were afraid my being there would cause problems. We couldn't risk her being taken away. And then we got back together when we knew she was ours, or at least, Cuddy's."

Jennifer smiled to herself. What House thought was a problem was actually a good thing. Here were two people who obviously loved each other willing to separate to make sure they wouldn't lose a child they both loved.

"Speaking of your history," Jennifer began, "We have a lot of things to talk about."

House would have groaned if he hadn't thought it would make him sound difficult. It had been five years since he had any significant problems, but no one saw that; they just wanted to keep bringing up everything from his past. He counted to ten and waited for the annoying questions.

"So, it says on your medical form you had an infarction about fifteen years ago," Jennifer began. "I don't have a medical background, could you explain to me what happened?" Actually, Jennifer did know quite a bit about medicine because of all those years spent in the ER with abused children. But she still wanted to hear how House explained things.

"I had a blood clot in my right thigh that went undetected, which resulted in muscle death. I had surgery to remove the dead tissue and the results are what you see today," House pointed to his thigh and held up his cane.

"It says here this is a source of considerable pain," Jennifer noted.

"Yes," House replied, not inclined to elaborate unless she wanted to know more.

"And this is the reason for your prior addiction to Vicodin?" she ventured.

"Yes," House answered. He didn't think giving details about how his loneliness and depression had made the addiction escalate would help his case, so he kept quiet.

"I see several instances of patients, or rather their family members, assaulting you, including one instance when you were shot," Jennifer stated. "And yet, your rate of curing patients is very high, especially considering you are a doctor of last resort. One would think that people would have been happy you helped them. Why do you think they were so hostile?"

"Well," House responded, "my methods are unorthodox, and sometimes the patients have strange reactions. I'm also not exactly warm and fuzzy, if you know what I mean."

"Your beside manner leaves something to be desired?" Jennifer asked with a slight smile.

"It's more than that," House admitted. "Everybody lies, and when patients lie or omit information, it can significantly impact their diagnosis."

"So, people don't like it when you discover and reveal their secrets?" Jennifer said.

"Would you?" House asked in response.

"I suppose not," Jennifer replied. "It also says here that you received a drug called Ketamine during your surgery when you were shot. What is that drug and why was it given to you?"

"It's mostly used in veterinary applications," House explained. "Some studies have shown that if it is used on humans, it can reboot the brain and eliminate chronic pain."

"Apparently, it didn't work that way for you," Jennifer commented, looking at House's leg.

"It did, for a while," House said, "And then it failed."

"That must have been devastating," Jennifer remarked softly. She felt like she was beginning to understand something about the man before her. He certainly knew enough about loss and pain.

"It wasn't the happiest time of my life," House admitted.

"It was about this time that you had your legal troubles, wasn't it?" Jennifer questioned, looking at another section of House's voluminous file. "It says here that you were investigated and the case made it to trial, but it was dismissed. You were also in rehab at this time."

"Are you going to ask me a question about that?" House asked. He was feeling less nervous than before, but he was still cautious and didn't want to just start talking, especially about the Tritter debacle.

"Can I assume that because the charges were dismissed that they weren't valid?" Jennifer asked.

"Yes," House replied.

"Then why were they brought in the first place?" she asked.

"You remember our discussion of my less than wonderful beside manner?" House asked. "Well, the cop who investigated me had been a patient of mine in the clinic, and let's just say we didn't get along and he decided to teach me a lesson."

"Oh," Jennifer replied. She was sure there was much more to the story, but since the charges were dismissed, she really couldn't make too big an issue out of it, not that she wanted to.

"Why did you go in to rehab?" Jennifer asked.

"The cop had said that he would consider dropping the charges if I did," House said. "He lied."

"So, once the charges were dropped, you didn't really have any motivation to stay with the program," Jennifer observed.

"The pain was still there," House stated, "so the need for the pain medication was still there, or that's what I thought at the time."

"I assume you still have the pain," Jennifer said. "How do you deal with it now?"

"Intense physical therapy and non-narcotic pain meds," House replied.

"Does it help?" Jennifer asked.

"Not that much, but it's better than being drugged up and destroying my liver," House stated matter-of-factly.

"Let's continue," Jennifer said, looking down at the paperwork in front of her. "I notice there is a medical report regarding some electrical burns you received. It also says your heart stopped and you had to be brought back. It doesn't give a lot of detail about how you were electrocuted. Was there some faulty medical equipment?"

House was seriously tempted to lie and agree with her. However, there were so many people who actually knew what happened, and who weren't friends and wound up not working for him, it seemed highly likely that a lie would be detected. He had to admit the truth.

"Um, no," he stammered. "I put a knife in a light socket."

"You're an intelligent man, and a physician," Jennifer noted. "Surely you knew what would happen. Why did you do that? Were you suicidal?"

"No," House replied, trying not to sound defensive. "It was more of an experiment. I had a patient who had a near-death experience and told me about it. I wanted to see if what he said was true, that there actually was something after death."

"Interesting," Jennifer said. "What did you find out?"

"That would be cheating if I told you," House replied, a bit of playfulness creeping into his tone for the first time during the meeting.

"Weren't you afraid that if something went wrong, you could die?" Jennifer asked.

"I was in a hospital, and I paged one of my employees so someone would be there to bring me back. There was minimal risk," House insisted.

"Speaking of risk, a few months after this incident, you were in a bus accident and fractured your skull. Within the next two days, you had a drug-induced heart attack and a procedure called deep brain stimulation that resulted in a seizure and widened the fracture." Jennifer read. "Why did you do all that?"

"Hey, I had been to a bar and I took the bus rather than drive," House stated. "That wasn't risky, it was responsible."

"I'm not talking about the bus accident," Jennifer said with a slight bit of annoyance. "I'm talking about what you did after that."

"I couldn't remember what happened because I had a concussion and I needed to remember to figure out how to treat someone."

"You decided to risk your own life to try to save a patient?" Jennifer asked.

"It wasn't just a patient, she was my friend's girlfriend," House replied.

"So, she was a friend of yours," Jennifer concluded.

"Not exactly," House admitted. "He was, um, is, my best friend and he was scared she was going to die."

"That was incredibly selfless of you," Jennifer said. "At least it allowed you to express how much your friend meant to you. You must have been very close after that."

"Not really," House said. "He wound up leaving and refusing to speak to me for a while."

"Seriously?" Jennifer asked, surprised. "I would have thought he would be grateful."

"It's complicated." House said.

"The next thing is your use of methadone," Jennifer noted.

"It got rid of my leg pain completely," House stated.

"Why did you stop, then?" Jennifer asked.

"It had this tendency to make my heart stop beating," House answered. "And, even worse, it made me foggy so I couldn't think clearly during diagnoses."

"Being foggy was worse than a heart attack?" Jennifer questioned.

"At the time, all I had was my work," House admitted. "If I couldn't do my job effectively, I had nothing."

"What about the insulin coma?" Jennifer inquired.

"I was trying to trick my brain and get rid of the hallucinations," House responded.

"Since you committed yourself to Mayfield, I assuming the insulin didn't work," Jennifer said.

There was a knock on the door. The administrative assistant came in with the food for lunch.

After she left, they spread their food out on the desk.

"Do you want to take a break and just talk?" Jennifer asked.

"No," House replied through a mouthful of sandwich. "I'd rather keep going. Besides, I suck at small talk."

"Okay," Jennifer said with a smile. "You realize that we need to talk about Mayfield?"

House managed to suppress another groan. "Yeah," he said in a resigned voice.

"Why did you check yourself in to Mayfield?" Jennifer asked.

"I was hallucinating and I became delusional," House answered honestly. He saw no point in trying to hide anything, since it was all in his paperwork.

"What caused the hallucinations and delusions?" Jennifer questioned.

"Well, you've read the file," House stated, "So you know it was a combination of Vicodin overuse, trauma from the head injury, DBS and a motorcycle accident, and severe depression."

"What was done for treatment?" Jennifer asked. It would have sounded clinical to the average person, but Jennifer sensed it would be easier for House to talk about things this way.

"I had surgery to correct the trauma," House responded. "I detoxed from the Vicodin, and I had a combination of therapy and drugs for the depression."

"Wow, that sounds like fun," Jennifer stated, dropping her professional demeanor for just a moment. "I see you were there for three months. Did you consider yourself cured when you left?"

"Well, it isn't like a broken arm healing, or a successful appendectomy," House replied. "There isn't exactly a 'cure.' I stopped using Vicodin and hallucinating and being delusional."

"Were you still depressed?" Jennifer asked gently.

"Yes," House answered honestly, "but it wasn't as bad."

They had finished their lunch and Jennifer handed the wastebasket to House for his trash.

"Were you abused as a child, Dr. House?" Jennifer asked.

"What?" House questioned. Her inquiry seemed to come completely out of left field. He was pretty sure there was no record of abuse in his file.

"Well, everything in your medical history, including your commitment to Mayfield, suggests that is the case," Jennifer replied.

"Where did you come up with that?" House asked with trepidation. He knew about the studies that showed that children who were abused were more likely to abuse their own children, and he also knew that Jennifer would be very familiar with the same studies. He had thought the drug use and mental illness were the potential deal-breakers. He never considered that his long-buried ugly childhood would come into play.

"A lot of your seemingly inexplicable self-destructive behavior can be explained by that," Jennifer calmly noted. "Your being rude to patients and their families to the point of inciting them to violence against you, antagonizing a police officer enough to want to prosecute you, your willingness to try high-risk treatments such as ketamine, using an Alzheimer drug to remember something which resulted in a heart attack, deep-brain stimulation, and insulin comas, and other high-risk behaviors such as attempting to electrocute yourself with a knife in an electrical socket, and using methadone for pain management."

"As I already explained, I had a rational reason for everything that I did," House exclaimed, trying to counter her statements.

"Taken in isolation, it is possible that could be the case," Jennifer conceded. "However, the overall pattern that emerges is someone whose self-esteem was so low, he didn't care if he lived or died. Given your professional accomplishments, the only explanation that makes any sense to me is child abuse."

House took a deep breath, both to compose himself and to keep from reaching across the desk and strangling Jennifer. It wasn't that she was so far off base, it was that she was too close to home. "My father . . ." House managed to utter, and then he stopped. He was barely able to tell Cuddy half of what John had done to him, and now he was supposed to spill his guts to a stranger?

"As I suspected," Jennifer stated. "There are no reports about you in the child abuse registry, and I'm assuming, based on the rest of your file, it's because you have never abused a child. I have to ask, how did you break the cycle?"

This sounded less like an intimidating investigation and more like respect and curiosity. House appreciated her detachment. "I kept myself away from children for a long time. When I started at Princeton-Plainsboro, Cuddy insisted I work in the clinic there. I guess I empathized with the kids who were abused, and I was mostly entertained by the kids who weren't. I never lived with a child until Rachael. And she was just great – innocence, need, curiosity, and pretty much unconditional love."

Jennifer appeared satisfied with his answer.

"Are you still depressed, Dr. House?" Jennifer inquired.

"Not nearly as much or as often," House replied.

"Why?" Jennifer questioned.

"My family," House answered. "They don't give me the time to be lonely."

"I have to tell you," Jennifer stated, "This has to be one of the most interesting pre-adoption interviews I ever had."

"Is that good or bad?" House asked, hoping his fear and anxiety weren't obvious in his voice.

"If you want to adopt Rachael, it's good," Jennifer responded with a small smile. "It's going to take me a week to get my report together, and then your attorney will need to get your case on the court docket, but if she can do that fairly quickly, I don't think you will have to wait much later than Halloween for the adoption to be finalized."

House took a deep breath. He stood up and extended his hand to Jennifer. "Thanks."

She shook his hand. "You're welcome. I tell most people who leave this office to be grateful for the opportunity they've been given to raise a child. I don't think I need to say that to you."

House nodded and left. He limped quickly to his car and got in. He turned on the ignition and drove away. He went out of the city and into the countryside, until he found a secluded spot overlooking a valley. The leaves were still green, but they wore that tired look of late summer. He stared for a while, until the tears came.


	66. Chapter 66

A/N: Okay, here's where I plan to take this story next. After this chapter, I'm going to incorporate Another Favor and Donations and Declarations as chapters (I don't plan on changing them much other than cleaning up any typos and grammatical mistakes, and fixing anything that conflicts with other parts of this story.) After that, I'll write something about the adoption being finalized in court and the party I mention here. Then, it's on to some developments in the Wilson/Miles relationship (with some angst and drama, of course). After that, maybe some Hannukah/Christmas fluff, and then I'll incorporate Presents as a chapter. After that, we'll see. Then again, I could change my mind and do something else completely! :D

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc**

House pulled himself together and drove home, taking a circuitous route to make sure he had the chance to settle down a bit. It was about six when he arrived, and Cuddy had already sent the nanny home. Since both Cuddy and Rachael knew he had the interview today, he braced himself for a ton of questions.

As he walked in the front door, it was quiet. He put his backpack under the table in the foyer and headed toward the back of the house. He heard voices coming from the kitchen. Rachael was sitting on one of the stools behind the island. Cuddy was cooking something over the stove, and Michael was in his high chair, playing with one of his rattles – the one House had bought for him in the shape of a motorcycle that had Harley-Davidson on it. Cuddy hadn't been completely thrilled about that, but House informed her it was never too early to get his son thinking about a sweet ride.

He stood just outside, contemplating the interview and his life. If you had told him five years ago he would be standing outside the kitchen in a home he enjoyed, looking happily at the love of his life and two children he adored, he would have told you that you were more delusional than he was at the time. He concluded he was one lucky bastard.

"Hi, Honey, I'm home," he called. He just couldn't resist mocking his own domestic bliss.

Rachael jumped down from her stool and ran to meet him. House could tell she was dying to ask him how it went, and she was trying desperately to read him for any clues. The poor kid didn't know he had had decades to perfect the technique of hiding what he thought and felt. She didn't stand a chance.

Cuddy turned down the burner, left the stove and walked towards him. She was much more subtle about her efforts to size him up, her skills honed by years of figuring out who to promote to what position and which donor would pony up the most cash. He could still hide some things from her, if he wanted to, although lately he hadn't.

Cuddy knew that House had spent most of the day in the interview, so she knew it had been more than just going through the motions. When she saw House's face and noticed that he had been crying, her heart sank to the floor. She knew in her mind that if the adoption didn't happen, nothing fundamental would change. They would all still be living together as a family and loving each other. However, knowing how much Rachael and House wanted this, her heart would be broken along with theirs.

House went over to Michael. "Did you have a good day, buddy?" he asked as he picked him up and kissed him. He rocked him in his arms for a couple of minutes before putting him back down in the highchair.

He then bent down to hug and kiss Rachael and he placed a light kiss on Cuddy's cheek. "So," he paused for several beats, "What's for dinner?" House was still not in the strongest emotional state, and he wasn't above using deflection to delay the discussion as long as possible.

Rachael groaned and Cuddy sighed.

"No food until you tell us what happened," Cuddy insisted. If things hadn't worked out, this would cast a pall over the rest of the evening, but she still had to know and she knew Rachael would explode if House didn't tell them.

."Well," House hesitated. He had been so emotional in the car, he didn't want to just break down completely again.

"Daddy," Rachael begged, "Please tell us what they said about you adopting me!"

"The social worker said that if the lawyer can get us on the court calendar in the next couple of weeks," House could feel and hear his voice breaking, "the adoption should be final by Halloween."

House watched as a couple of tears fell silently down Cuddy's face. He realized this must have been very important to her, probably for Rachael's sake, but she had done a pretty good job of hiding how she felt about it from him.

Rachael saw how subdued both her parents were, and she was puzzled.

"Nobody seems very happy," she concluded. "What's wrong? Did you change your mind?"

"No," House said as quickly and forcefully as he could. His voice was still wavering and he realized it was because he was crying. He really couldn't talk anymore, so he sat down on one of the kitchen table chairs and held his arms out to her.

Rachael ran at House with the determination of a professional linebacker. She threw herself into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and held him as tightly as she could.

House looked over Rachael's shoulder at Cuddy, making no attempt to hide the tears streaming down his face. He was reciprocating Rachael's hug with one hand on the middle of her back and another on the back of her head.

"I love you, Daddy," Rachael proclaimed as she kissed House's stubble-covered, tear-soaked cheek.

"I love you, too, baby girl," House choked out.

Cuddy had decided to give them their moment. She was crying and she picked up Michael and held him, kissing his tiny face and holding him against her.

After several tissues were sent to an unceremonious end in the kitchen garbage can, they sat down to dinner.

"I think we should have a party," Rachael stated.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" Cuddy asked.

"When the adoption is final, we should have a party," Rachael clarified.

House was not in favor of any celebration. "You mean with people and everything?"

"Of course," Rachael answered. "We could invite Uncle James, Aunt Andie and Catia, and Uncle Robbie, Aunt Allie and Randy, Dr. Foreman and Dr. Hadley, Dr. Taub and his wife, Grandma House, Grandma and Grandpa Cuddy, and Aunt Lena and Uncle David and my cousins. And Daniela. Oh, and some of my friends from school like Madison, Zoë, and Tatum."

"That's quite the guest list," Cuddy commented, trying to be supportive. She hadn't had much contact with her family since she told them she was pregnant, other than the occasional phone call to update them on events and hear in response how she was ruining her life. They hadn't even seen Michael yet. Cuddy knew she should not be upset by that, but it still bothered her that she couldn't have a civil relationship with her mother and her sister, and, at least, have them tolerate her son. And she really felt badly about her father not seeing his grandson.

"We'll see," she said vaguely. She was positive House wouldn't want any kind of gathering like Rachael proposed, but she was sure he'd somehow suck it up and get through it, if Cuddy were able to convince him to do it for his daughter.

"We could have pizza, cake and ice cream," Rachael proposed, her eyes wide with the possibilities, "just like a birthday party."

"I am _not_ playing any stupid party games," House insisted. "It's bad enough I'll have to be under the same roof as your mother's family."

"So, we can do it, then?" Rachael asked expectantly.

"If it's okay with your mother," House muttered, knowing that if he couldn't escape somewhere with Wilson, or Chase, or even Foreman or Taub, it was going to be a world of hurt.

"Mommy?" Rachael asked, giving her Cuddy her most intense, pleading eyes.

"Okay," Cuddy replied. She wondered how bad it could be, until she remembered her mother and sister would be present. She had good grammar skills. Maybe she could run next door and help Andie proofread her book.

"Yeah!" Rachael yelled. Michael had drifted off to sleep in his high chair and he awoke with a start. He began crying. Cuddy scooped him up and took him to get changed and feed him.

"Time to clean up, kid," House stated. He and Rachael cleared the dishes, put them in the dishwasher and put the leftovers in the refrigerator.

Rachael got ready for bed. She told House it was too early, until he reminded her that this was close to her bedtime during school, and school would be starting soon. He kissed her goodnight.

House limped into the master bedroom and stripped down to his boxers.

He stopped to look at Michael sleeping in his bassinet and then climbed into bed next to Cuddy.

"You must have some idea how many ways this party could turn into a disaster," Cuddy said.

"Yeah," House replied, almost flippantly. "The good news is that it should be cold enough by then to get people to behave by locking them out on the patio."

"When you say 'people,' are you including yourself?" Cuddy asked.

"I plan to be hiding out next door with Wilson," House replied, "Just to stay out of trouble."

"Funny," Cuddy said, "I was thinking of going there to hang out with Andie."

"That's a lot of great knockers on display," House commented with a salacious grin, taking Cuddy's comment about 'hanging out' literally.

"I'm having a hard time believing that Wilson would let anyone else look at Andie's breasts, and there is no way you'd give Wilson a peek at my ta-tas," Cuddy stated.

"Ta-tas," House sighed, checking out Cuddy's bosom in her nightgown. "Yiddish is a beautiful language."

"Wait until you hear what my mother calls you," Cuddy smiled.

"She does hate my guts, doesn't she?" House responded, not sounding particularly pained by his statement. "Did she ever approve of any of your boyfriends?"

"Only one that I remember. Harold Michelman," she replied.

"Wow, that's a real Hebrew name," House remarked.

"Well, he _was_ Jewish," Cuddy responded with irritation in her voice.

"What was he like otherwise?" House asked, his voice one part jealously and three parts curiosity.

"We met after I finished my residency, so we were both in our late twenties," Cuddy said. "He was good looking, funny, smart, and on a fast partnership track at the law firm where he worked, mainly because he was the son of one of the partners. He was a good lawyer, too, as I recall."

"Wow, good-looking, Jewish and a well-paying job for life. He sounds absolutely perfect," House stated. "Your mom must have loved him."

"She did," Cuddy said. "She called me at least three times a week to sing his praises."

"So, how come you and Harry didn't get married, buy a big house in the 'burbs and start pooping out tiny Jewish spawn?" House asked.

"Well, much to my mother's annoyance, I was too focused on my career to want to settle down then," Cuddy answered. "Even if we had met later, I still don't think I would have married him. He had a fatal flaw."

"What?" House asked, his curiosity piqued. "Alcoholism? Gambling addiction? Lawyer by day, serial killer by night?"

"No," Cuddy replied.

"Well, what was it then?" House was getting exasperated.

"He wasn't you," Cuddy finally replied.

House couldn't help but smile. "Did you ever tell your mom that?"

"It might have slipped out when we were having one of our more vociferous arguments at some point," Cuddy conceded.

"So, she knows I'm the reason her precious daughter didn't marry Mr. Right," House stated. "No wonder she can't stand me."

"You don't seem too bothered by it," Cuddy observed.

"Hey, it's me, remember?" House stated. "The man who _doesn't_ pine for the social approval of everyone he meets, who takes pride in how creative he can be alienating every other member of the human race. Besides, I think I remember having a conversation once with a woman I was dating, the gist of which was that she never did what her mother told her. If the dragon lady had liked me, I never would have had a chance with you."

"I suppose," Cuddy reluctantly agreed. Suddenly, a smile crept across her face. "You know what would drive my mother and sister crazy?"

"What?" House asked conspiratorially.

"When they come to the party, we should show every form of physical affection short of having sex in front of them," Cuddy chuckled.

"You know I'm not a fan of PDAs," House responded. "Besides, do you really want one of your employees mauling you in front of your other employees?"

"My employee who is also my husband," Cuddy reminded him. "And it's not like they haven't heard you make comments about my boobs for years or seen you grab my ass at our wedding when we were dancing."

"That was one of the most moving parts of the event for me," House said in an overwrought, high-pitched voice as he used the back of his hand to wipe away imaginary tears.

"Just think how pissed my mother would be to see me and a man she can't stand happily lusting after each other," Cuddy stated gleefully. "And think how jealous my sister will be to see that I have a real relationship with a man who actually loves and wants me."

"Cuddy, are you using my undying love and everlasting desire for you as a weapon against your family?" House asked.

"Yes," Cuddy replied honestly.

"Bring it on," House proclaimed with an evil smile.

"I think we need to practice, don't you?" Cuddy said with an even more evil smile.

"Well, I do need to understand what the line is," House admitted, continuing to make it sound like it was detached interest rather than raging lust that was currently driving his actions.

"Why don't we do some things, and I'll let you know when we get near the line?" Cuddy suggested helpfully.

House didn't need to be asked twice. He started with soft, tender kisses to her lips, face and neck. This not only had the potential to really bug Cuddy's sister (whose husband hadn't kissed her tenderly in years, both House and Cuddy were sure), it also had the effect, for the purposes of tonight's activities, of bringing Cuddy into a state of intense desire.

"Okay, so far," Cuddy sighed dreamily.

House then nipped and sucked at Cuddy's neck. "Are you leaving a spot?" Cuddy asked as she felt the force of his sucking increase.

"I'm pretty sure your mom will be disgusted seeing me mark my territory," House responded.

"I guess. Oohh," Cuddy uttered as House's hands suddenly cupped her breasts through the fabric her nightgown and his thumbs found their way to her nipples.

"I'm going to need to practice my feeling-up-your-tits-skills," House stated.

"I'd say you're pretty much up to speed on that," Cuddy cooed.

"You can never be too good at it," House responded as his hand traveled lightly down her abdomen. She had already lost most of her baby weight and her scars were healed. He lingered on the small round spot that was left. His hands still had some muscle memory of her belly when she was pregnant. He wondered how long the memory would last and he hoped it would be for a while.

He moved on to her ass and gave it a good squeeze. It had become larger since she was pregnant, but it was still beautifully firm and impossibly round. Only an improvement, as far as House was concerned. As much as he made fun of her allegedly "rotundous" ass, one of the highlights of his day was watching it sashay by him at the hospital, even before they were together. Now that he had an all-access pass, he was very happy that there was more of it for him to enjoy. He began to gently massage her derriere.

"So, I haven't crossed the line, yet?" House inquired, pulling Cuddy's focus back to the supposed point of what they were doing.

"Great, so far," Cuddy murmured.

House brought lips down to hers in a passionate kiss. Her lips parted and mouth opened to receive his tongue. He didn't disappoint her as his tongue entered, heading toward her throat. She pushed back with her tongue, attempting to probe his mouth. She had her hands down the back of his boxers and she was feeling his ass – muscular, with rough skin, and just enough hair to make it interesting to touch. She drew her finger along the crack of his butt, and House moaned into her mouth before he broke the kiss.

"Are you really going to fondle my ass in front of your family?" House asked, disbelieving yet hopeful.

"Well, if I put my hands down the back of your pants, they won't see exactly what I'm doing. They'll just know we're enjoying ourselves," Cuddy said, thinking of her sister's envy and her mother's disapproval.

"Can we put our hands down the _front_ of each other's pants?" House asked, reaching into the front of her panties. "They won't be able to see what we're doing there, either."

"Mmmmm," Cuddy hummed, as House found her wetness and his long fingers went slowly inside her, one at a time. His thumb began making circles around her clit.

House was certain he'd gone a feel too far and that Cuddy would protest, but she didn't. In fact she moved her hands from his behind to his front, stroking his cock and juggling his balls. He suddenly found he was unable to talk, about PDAs or anything else.

Cuddy pulled down his boxers, releasing his erection. House pulled down her panties and pushed up her nightgown. He ran his cock along her channel and pushed inside her.

"I think we, um, crossed the line now," Cuddy whispered as her last coherent thought left her brain.

House pulled apart her legs for greater penetration as he began to pump more quickly. As always, he found just the right spot and thrust against it repeatedly. Cuddy could feel the lower half of her body melting as her orgasm came. House followed quickly after, shooting his cum deep inside her.

After a few minutes, they gained some composure and the ability to think, at least a little.

"So, anything short of actually intercourse is not over the line?" House asked, attempting to clarify what was acceptable.

"That and oral sex," Cuddy replied. "Feeling up inside clothes is a 'yes.'"

"This is going to be so hot," House said in a low, wolfish voice.

"And satisfying in other ways as well," Cuddy responded with a smile.

They fell asleep doing some serious party planning.


	67. Chapter 67

A/N: As I stated in the previous chapter, I'm incorporating my story, Another Favor, as this chapter of Domestication. There are minimal changes except cleaning up grammatical mistakes and removing anything that conflicts with other parts of the larger story (if I'm lucky enough to remember them, that is).

Also, I plan on publishing this and the next chapter (also incorporating a one-shot I wrote earlier) with a new one, just so you get something new along with the re-treads. I do try to take care of my readers :D.

A/N: (Warning original to this chapter when it was a one-shot, and it still applies.) There may be a yuck factor for some people about this chapter, so if you don't like to read things about bodily fluids, consider yourself on notice.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc**.

Cuddy wasn't sure how this happened. House would have told her it was because she was obsessive and came back to work too soon. That might have been true, although Cuddy would have characterized it as being dedicated rather than obsessive.

Besides, she was a woman in a man's world, with many demanding bosses, and she didn't have the luxury to take six months away from work to take care of her child. She knew most workplaces gave lip-service to being family-friendly, but that's mostly what it was, just lip-service (or, as House would put it more bluntly, bullshit). She wasn't sure how long she could be away before the board would be inconvenienced enough times that they decided she was replaceable after all, which meant not only her job would be gone, but so would House's after a new administrator decided that he was just too much of a risk.

So, she reluctantly returned to work. She had thought all her conflict about being away from an infant had surfaced when she left Rachael, but, this was actually a little worse. Since Rachael was adopted, Cuddy gave her formula, which meant really anyone who knew anything about babies would be able to feed her. Because it was considered healthier, she had decided to breast-feed Michael. When she was home, this wasn't a problem, but once she started back to work, it became a logistical nightmare.

On nice days, when Rachael was in school, Daniela would bring Michael to Cuddy and she would feed him. If the weather was bad, or if Daniela didn't have transportation, or after Rachael was home from school, Daniela was pretty much forced to stay put. If she could, Cuddy would go home to feed Michael, but it was a rare occasion that she had sixty uninterrupted minutes in her schedule to drive home, feed him and come back. The alternate plan was that she would pump and bring home the breast milk for the next day.

This had been working, more or less; okay, it had been barely functioning, until today. Daniela had no car today, so she couldn't leave the house. All morning, Cuddy had been in meetings back-to-back and couldn't get home. It was three o'clock, and she did have a break between now and her next meeting, but it was only forty-five minutes, so she couldn't make it home and back in time. And, it had been such a rush to get out this morning that she had forgotten her breast pump.

So, all these things conspired to have Cuddy standing outside of House's office, terrified of the favor she was about to ask him. She had almost gone back to her office at least three times, but her breasts were engorged and the longer she delayed, the more it hurt.

House was in his office, watching TV. She entered and sat down.

His soap was just ending and he turned it off. "What's up?"

She was worried that if she just blurted out what she wanted, he would mock her, and, more importantly, refuse to do it. Maybe she should try the humble approach. "Whoever runs this hospital doesn't know what she is doing."

"We all know that, Cuddy," House snarked. "Anything specific that she screwed up?"

"You would think," Cuddy said, giving him a nasty look for agreeing with her so readily, "that there would be a spare breast pump somewhere in a large hospital."

"I hadn't thought about that as a serious problem," House replied. "But, there isn't one?"

"None to be found," Cuddy stated. "I checked personally. They are all being used by patients."

"And you were checking because . . . ?" House asked.

"Because someone needed one," Cuddy responded.

"Another patient?" House inquired.

"Um, not exactly . . . " Cuddy answered.

"A member of the staff, then?" House questioned.

"Yesss," Cuddy said through clenched teeth. Her breasts were really starting to hurt now.

"Who?" House asked with all the innocence he could muster, even though he knew exactly who they were talking about.

"Me, dammit!" Cuddy finally conceded angrily.

"Well, the fact that you're telling me this means you can't go home and feed Michael, or the nanny can't come here, and you didn't bring your pump or you wouldn't be looking for one," House concluded. "And I obviously don't have a spare pump in my desk, so why are you here?"

Cuddy thought her breasts were about to burst, but she managed to keep going, "I need you to help me."

"By doing what, exactly?" House asked, unable to keep the leer out of his voice.

"Drink some of my milk," Cuddy said in the lowest voice possible, looking down at the floor in embarrassment.

Before she knew it, House had rocketed out of his chair to close all the blinds to his office and to lock both doors. She had no idea he was even capable of moving that quickly.

"Top and bra off," he commanded.

Cuddy quickly complied.

"Magnificent," House stated with reverence, looking at her hugely swollen breasts.

"Can we please just get going?" Cuddy begged. "It's really starting to hurt."

"You wish is my command," House replied, still not taking his eyes off her breasts.

House couldn't kneel in front of Cuddy for any length of time, so he guided her to his eames chair. He had Cuddy lay on her side, with her legs on the foot rest, and he was lying on his side, facing her.

House was certainly very familiar with Cuddy's nipples. In fact, he considered them close friends. However, he had never actually sucked a nipple with the intent to extract milk. (He was born in the late fifties, and he was pretty sure his mother had bottle-fed him, which was considered the best thing to do then). He started slowly, with a very gentle pull of his lips, without really sucking at all.

"My tits are killing me, can we just get on with this?" Cuddy complained in her most exasperated voice.

_Whatever you say_, House thought. He slowly began to suck. Sure enough, he started to feel liquid in his mouth. Other than it not tasting at all like milk (that is, cow's milk), House had no idea what was passing over his tongue. It was sweet, and neither offensive nor tasty.

"Harder and faster!" Cuddy demanded. House's sucking was giving her the strangest feelings, including some significant fluttering below the waist. Cuddy tried to think of anything to distract herself, but she couldn't. After about five minutes, Cuddy had an orgasm.

Since House was pressed against her, he couldn't help but notice. He wanted to make a comment, but he knew he had to continue. After another five minutes, as he was finishing up with her left breast, she had a second orgasm.

"This is so cool," House commented.

"Just keep going," Cuddy all but begged as her right breast felt like it would explode any minute.

House started with the same pull her had done on her left breast, just to get her nipple used to his mouth

"Please hurry, House!" Cuddy begged.

House wondered, as a scientist, if the flavor of the milk from her right breast would be any different than her left. It didn't taste exactly the same. Maybe it had to do with what Cuddy was eating when this milk was formed. She had said she couldn't eat broccoli anymore because it seemed to give Michael gas. House wasn't sure he believed that, but maybe this was some kind of proof.

House was pulled back from his thoughts by Cuddy having yet another orgasm. This was after about three minutes of sucking. Her orgasms seemed to be coming with greater frequency and intensity. House, in turn, noticed he had an erection, and it was becoming harder. He hoped he could get through this without coming in his pants, but he had a way to go. He distracted himself by remembering the journal article he had been reading earlier with the graphic pictures of anaerobic infections.

As the pressure decreased in Cuddy's breasts, she began to notice that her orgasms were happening more quickly and she was coming harder. She also noticed the bulge in House's pants. She decided he deserved a reward for helping her out with minimal harassment. That, and she knew there was no way she would be able to leave his office after all these orgasms without having sex with him, at least if she hoped to be able to think about anything but sex for the rest of the day.

Another orgasm overtook her. Cuddy wasn't sure how much more she could take. After it stopped, she reached down to start getting House's pants off of him. Since he was taller than her, and since he was at chest level, all she could really do was unbutton them and get the zipper part of the way down. She could only hope House would take the hint. Her fifth orgasm began to hit her now. Her entire body below her waist was just about out of muscle control at this point.

After she recovered slightly, she decided that even though she couldn't get to House's erection, she could at least get herself naked, and then he would get the idea. She unzipped her skirt and slid it down below her knees. She slid her panties down to the same spot and was able to kick and pull them off with her feet. She was now completely naked and House was just about done. She had another orgasm, this one the most intense of all. She was reduced to a quivering blob of over-excited flesh at this point.

House being, above almost all things, very observant, couldn't help but notice Cuddy trying to get his pants down and her success at getting herself unclothed below the waist. Of course, his erection was straining beyond belief. He rarely, if ever, simply took Cuddy without at least some verbal agreement, even if it was nothing more than a grunt, especially after he found out about the rape. He decided to go ahead anyway, figuring that he wasn't going to get much clearer of a signal than Cuddy stripping. Besides, she seemed to be beyond coherent thought at this point.

He quickly got his jeans and his boxers down. His erection was at full height. He began to rub his pens across her channel. A low, almost animal moan came from Cuddy's lips. He worried slightly, remembering the lack of sound proofing of the walls. He felt relieved when he recalled Wilson was away at a two-day conference in New York City and that he had banished his team to the clinic since they couldn't seem to find him an interesting case.

House began to insert his penis into Cuddy. She was literally panting at this point, trying to stave off another orgasm. He began thrusting and it took less than ten times before they both climaxed.

House put his head against Cuddy's shoulder. She must have shuddered for a good five minutes. Finally she seemed to be coming down.

House got up and pulled his boxers and his jeans back on. He pulled Cuddy up to a sitting position.

"What time is it?" she managed to croak out.

House opened a bottle of water and gave it to her, as well as reluctantly handing her clothes to her. Cuddy's body shook from the effort it took her to get dressed. She had to be in a meeting in ten minutes, and she had no idea how she would get out of the chair, let alone walk there. Her pager went off.

"It's my assistant," Cuddy said hoarsely. "Can you call her and put her on speakerphone?"

House dialed the assistant.

"You wanted me to call, Sheila?" Cuddy's voice was stronger than it had been before House gave her the water, but it was still much weaker than her assistant was used to hearing.

"Are you okay, Dr. Cuddy?" Sheila asked.

"She's on speakerphone, so her voice may be a little distorted." House jumped in. "As a department head, I should have better telephone equipment," House groused, attempting to provide her cover with his complaint.

As expected, Sheila simply ignored House. "I just wanted to let you know that your 3:45 meeting has been postponed until Thursday afternoon at two."

"Do I have any more meetings today?" Cuddy asked, her voice recovering.

"No," Sheila replied.

"Thank you, Sheila," Cuddy responded as House hung up the phone. Cuddy breathed a sigh of relief.

"I don't have a case, and you don't have any more appointments," House observed. "Can we go home now?"

"I'd be tempted to take you up on that," Cuddy replied, "if I thought I could move under my own power anytime soon."

"I could get a wheelchair," House offered.

"Remember the rumors that were flying when we did that after the amnio?" Cuddy questioned. "Everyone had me dying of MS or Parkinson's within the year."

"Yeah, I think we could do without a repeat of that," House agreed. "You want to watch TV?"

"What's on?" Cuddy asked, knowing that there was little else she could do for the next few minutes except watch House use his playstation, which was even more boring than watching TV.

"Judge Judy," House said with anticipation.

"Okay," Cuddy agreed. Not her all-time favorite show, but it was his office, after all. And he had done her a major favor.

"Thanks for your help, House," Cuddy stated.

"It was my pleasure," House replied. "Anytime. And I _really_ mean that."

"I have no doubt whatsoever that you do," Cuddy agreed.

House turned on the TV and Cuddy rested as they watched Judge Judy berate some hapless plaintiff.

"It's amazing to me that people willingly appear on this show," Cuddy said. "Don't they know they are going to be humiliated in syndication all over the country?"

"Idiots never know they act stupidly," House responded, "so it's always a surprise to them when someone calls them on it. How are you doing?"

"Much stronger," Cuddy replied. "I should be okay soon."

"Can we go home after this?" House asked.

"I guess I could stop by my office and pick up some paperwork to do after the kids are in bed . . . " Cuddy said.

"What about some time for us?" House asked, doing his best to sound needy.

"We just had a pretty good time, House," Cuddy responded. "And I promise not to work too late, okay?"

"It's a deal," House said. They settled in to watch the remainder of Judge Judy. And House and Cuddy were both able to check another item off their fantasy list. All in all, not the worst day they had ever had.

* * *

A/N: Again, I hope I didn't get too gross. I also don't think this is OOC for House, since he was willing to dig a tapeworm out of a patient's body and taste a homeless woman's vomit.


	68. Chapter 68

A/N: As I said in Chapter 66, I am incorporating my story, Donations and Declarations, as a chapter in Domestication. If you have already read this as a one-shot, please feel free to skip it and go on to the next chapter, which will be up in a few moments, I hope.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

"Hi, I'm Lisa Cuddy," she said as reached across her desk to shake the potential donor's hand. "I understand that you are interested in making a donation to the hospital."

"Andrew Harris," he replied, "And yes, I am interested in helping out. My father made a substantial donation thirty years ago, and I'd like to keep the tradition going."

"That's very generous," Cuddy responded.

House was working in the clinic when he noticed a handsome, middle-aged man in an expensive suit sitting in Cuddy's office and chatting with her. _Must be a donor_ House thought, trying to fight back a twinge of jealousy. He especially didn't like the way the guy was placing his hands on Cuddy's arms. He decided he would put a stop to it right away.

Cuddy's pager went off. She looked down and saw it was the code for a mass casualty incident. "I'm so sorry, but my emergency room is going to be full of some very sick people very soon. We'll have to continue this conversation later."

"That's okay," Harris said. "How about going out to dinner with me tonight?"

Cuddy didn't usually do that, but she was rushing out of her office and hastily agreed.

"See you at Antonio's at seven!" he exclaimed as Cuddy grabbed her lab coat and headed to the ER.

Cuddy ran as fast as her heels would let her. She saw Cameron quietly talking to a patient. "Dr. Cameron, why aren't there any preparations for the casualties we're expecting?"

"What casualties?" Cameron asked, completely puzzled.

"Aren't we about to receive patients from a mass casualty incident?" Cuddy asked.

"I don't think so," Cameron said. She approached the ER desk. "Has anyone called in a mass casualty?"

"Not since that train derailment earlier in the week," the receptionist replied.

"Then why did you page me?" Cuddy asked angrily.

"I didn't page you," Cameron replied.

"Well, then who . . . House!" Cuddy yelled, heading toward the clinic even faster than she had made it to the ER earlier.

Cameron smiled after her. House certainly hadn't settled down since they were married and Michael was born, at least at the hospital. He still managed to drive Cuddy crazy a minimum of once a week. She shook her head in disbelief and went back to her patient.

Cuddy found House at the main desk of the clinic. "House!" Cuddy shouted, "In my office, now!"

House barely had the chance to get through the door when Cuddy started in.

"House," She began, already furious, "I was in a meeting with an important donor when you decided to pull your little prank! He was ready to write a check for several million dollars!"

"He didn't look like his hands were anywhere near his checkbook," House said accusingly, "Because they were all over you!"

"He patted my arm a couple of times," Cuddy responded. "Big deal!"

"You know I don't like other men touching you!" House almost yelled. Damn, he shouldn't have said that.

"My God, you're jealous!" Cuddy said in a mocking tone.

"I am not," House denied. "At least the SOB is gone."

"Sorry, but I can't let a rogue employee interfere with a substantial amount of money coming to this hospital. I'm meeting him for dinner tonight." Cuddy informed him.

"What?" House asked in surprise. "Where? When?"

"I'm not about to tell you that!" Cuddy exclaimed. "Get back to work! Now!"

House was about to object when he saw Cuddy's face. He called that particular look Steely Resolve. He knew he would get nowhere with her. He'd have to find out some other way.

* * *

Cuddy spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get herself calmed down. House could be such an idiot sometimes. Although, if she was at all honest with herself, she was a little flattered that he still got jealous.

House was pretty sure Cuddy's assistant would have put the appointment in her calendar. Cuddy, being as obsessive as she was, kept records of how many times she met with donors and how much money she brought into the hospital as a result. It was the kind of thing that went into those incredibly dull charts and graphs that the hospital board loved and that ensured House would never show up at any board meeting, even when department heads were supposedly required to attend.

House was pretty sure Cuddy would be in her office for the rest of the afternoon, so he couldn't just go to her computer and find out about the appointment. His caseload had been light the past couple of weeks, and he had taken the opportunity to figure out how to hack into the hospital's main server. He was pretty sure that he could get into Cuddy's calendar from his office.

He checked out of the clinic at five and went in to inform Cuddy that since she was going out to dinner, so was he, with Wilson. Cuddy suspected he might pull something like this, and she had already called Daniela to ask her to stay until ten.

House want back to his office, and got into Cuddy's appointment calendar pretty easily. He called Antonio's and was able to make a reservation for a little earlier than when Cuddy and the donor would be there. He needed time to set up. He just hoped he was within earshot of their table.

House arrived at the restaurant at 6:45. He was wearing a hat and had brought a newspaper to hide behind. He gave the waiter his order and continued scanning the dining room. At seven, the donor showed up and was given a table. He got on his cell phone almost immediately, and House could hear him perfectly. This looked like it was going to work.

Cuddy showed up a little after seven. She hadn't gone home to change, apparently, so she was still in business attire. Of course, Cuddy's idea of business attire left little to the imagination, especially as far as her boobs and ass were concerned. House enjoyed it immensely when he was the one checking her out, but he hated other men doing it.

"Hi," Cuddy said as she sat down. "Thanks so much for making time for me in your busy schedule, Mr. Harris."

"Call me Drew," he replied. "And it's my pleasure."

The waiter came and took their order for drinks. "So," Cuddy began, trying to get down to business, "I'm assuming your donation will be used to support a specific program at the hospital. If you don't have any project of your own, I have a list of worthwhile projects that you could look at."

"Oh, let's talk about specifics after dinner," Harris said. "I'd really like to get to know you a little better."

_Wow, could that sound any more like a bad pick-up line?_ House thought. _What a loser._

"Well, there isn't much to tell," Cuddy said shyly. "I'm Dean of Medicine at Princeton- Plainsboro. I'm married and I have two children. My daughter, Rachael, will be seven in December, and my son, Michael, is not quite four months."

"Those are great names," Harris replied. "And you have an amazing figure for a woman who gave birth four months ago."

House rolled his eyes. _What a bullshitter._

"Thanks," Cuddy said. "What about you?"

"I'm married, but we don't have any kids," he replied. "My wife is an interior designer. What does your husband do?"

"He's a doctor," Cuddy responded. "He's the head of the diagnostics department at the hospital."

Harris had done his homework. "Gregory House is your husband?"

"Yes," Cuddy replied. "How did you know?"

"I looked at the hospital organization chart," Harris admitted. "I'd like to meet him sometime."

"I think you almost did," Cuddy said. "He was working in the clinic this afternoon when you were in my office."

"Was he the guy with the cane standing at the desk yelling at one of the nurses as I left?" Harris inquired.

"Yeah, that sounds like him," Cuddy answered.

"He looked like he had a pretty bad limp," Harris remarked. "I hope he recovers."

"He had surgery and had a large part of his thigh muscle removed, so he's not really going to get better, unfortunately," Cuddy said with a little sadness in her voice.

"Wow, that's too bad," Harris said. "It must be particularly hard on such a beautiful, vibrant, athletic woman such as yourself to have to accommodate a handicapped husband."

That comment made House pissed, but he took a deep breath and kept listening.

"I guess I don't think of it that way," she said.

"Well, you're a better person than I am," Harris confessed. "If my wife were handicapped, I don't know that I would be able to handle it."

"I'm sure you would," Cuddy attempted to reassure him.

"I'm not saying I'd divorce her," Harris said, "but if she were lacking in some way, I might seek a little something elsewhere. I'm only human."

_What a sleazebag_, House thought. _If his wife becomes less than a perfect ten, the asshole is out trolling._

"Have you ever considered seeking comfort from a man who is whole?" Harris asked.

House hoped no one was noticing the smoke coming out of his ears at this point.

"I think it would be better if we started to talk about your donation," Cuddy said, trying to minimize the annoyance in her voice and steer the conversation into safer territory.

"I'm serious, Lisa," Harris continued. "A beautiful woman such as yourself must have a lot of, um, opportunities to be with younger, healthier men."

"You mean like you?" Cuddy asked.

"Well, yes," Harris replied. "I'm not about to lie to you and say I don't find you attractive, Lisa. Is that something you would consider?"

"I'm flattered, but I'm afraid not," Cuddy said. "As I've been telling you, I'm married."

"I'm not asking you to leave your husband," Harris said. "I just thought you might need a little bit of time with a younger, stronger man, you know, to help you fulfill any unmet needs you may have."

House was ready to jump up, go over to their table and kill this guy. The only thing that held him back was knowing that Cuddy would kill _him_ if she knew he was checking up on her.

"Just so you have the right impression," Cuddy said, the irritation becoming evident in her voice, "I love my husband and wouldn't dream of cheating on him."

"I love my wife," Harris countered, "but sometimes I just like a little variety."

"You don't understand," Cuddy said. "My husband is the father of my children, the love of my life, and I waited twenty-five years to marry him and I don't want to be with anyone else. Oh, and he 'meets my needs' better than any other man ever has, and, any other man ever will!"

House had to restrain himself from shouting in agreement.

Harris shifted in his seat. If the seductive approach didn't work, there was always another way. "Listen," he said. "I think I'm becoming a little less interested in making a contribution, unless certain conditions are met."

Cuddy could guess where this was going, but she still wanted to get the donation if she could, so she tried to bring the conversation back to a professional level. "Well, as I said before, most donors like to have their contributions directed to specific projects, and some even put restrictions on how their money can be used, for example, based on on religious considerations. We've had Catholic donors who didn't want their contributions used for reproductive services like abortion or birth control. We can certainly accommodate that."

"Those aren't the conditions I was referring to," Harris stated. His voice was no longer sympathetic and had taken on a hard edge. "If you want this money, you are going to have to earn it personally, Lisa."

"Let me make sure I understand you," Cuddy asked, restraining herself from kneeing this jerk in the balls, "You won't give the hospital a donation unless I have sex with you?"

"Those are my conditions," Harris replied smugly.

"Well, you can shove your conditions up your ass!" Cuddy said, her voice full of rage. "And your money, too!"

"I wouldn't be so quick to turn me down, Lisa," Harris said, his voice taking on a warning tone. "The hospital board won't be happy if you don't bring in this money. I wouldn't want your job to be in jeopardy."

"The hospital board would be even unhappier if they threatened my job because I refused to sleep with a donor and I handed them a multi-million dollar lawsuit for sexual harassment!" Cuddy said forcefully.

"I still don't understand how you can turn me down and want to be with that old gimp!" Harris shouted, trying now to get her angry.

"My husband is the best man I've ever known. He's brilliant, talented, and funny. He works in constant pain and he still saves lives that no one else can. He's a wonderful, loving father, even though he had no one to show him how. He's a loyal, faithful husband who makes me feel like the sexiest woman on the planet. He makes me happy in every way a man can make a woman happy. Whereas you are a manipulative, cheating bastard who thinks he can buy or intimidate people because he inherited money. And you have to be one of the biggest idiots I've ever encountered, and that's saying something. I'm done here."

She got up and stormed across the dining room, and out the door.

House wanted to get up and hit Drew with his cane for good measure, but he thought he should let Cuddy have her triumph. He waited for Harris to pay the check and leave. He told the waiter to wrap his food and he paid the bill and left.

When he got home, Daniela had left for the night, Michael was in his crib, asleep, and Rachael was in her pajamas and ready to go to bed. House put his leftovers in the refrigerator and went to Michael's room to kiss him goodnight. He went into Rachael's room as Cuddy had finished reading to her. They both kissed her goodnight and headed for the family room.

"How was your dinner with Wilson?" Cuddy asked.

"Um, okay," House said, not liking that he was lying to her.

"Where did you go to eat?" Cuddy asked.

House decided he wasn't going to create an entire story of lies just to avoid the embarrassment that would accompany Cuddy finding out where he really was. "Listen, I . . . "

"Antonio's, perhaps?" Cuddy asked with a smirk. "And, Wilson wasn't with you, right?"

"How did you know?" House asked, genuinely surprised.

"House," Cuddy began, " I know what you smell like after a long day at work, after a quick shower, a long, hot bath, after sex on a hot summer night when the A/C isn't working, when you've been on your bike – all leather and exhilaration, when Michael has spit up on you, and when Rachael's cried on your shoulder. I know what you sound like – your husky sexy voice, your sarcastic teaching your fellows a lesson voice, your rarely heard yet beautiful singing voice, your ragged leg's in pain voice, your moan at the peak of your orgasm, and the sound of your cane – on carpet, tile, linoleum, hardwood, wooden doors, asphalt, gravel, grass, beach sand, ice and slush. I know how you move – your lop-sided cane gallop when one of your patients crashes or when you think one of the children is hurt, and how, with a good portion of your right thigh muscle missing and me seven months pregnant we were still able to dance. I know how you look – every wrinkle, fold, scar, crevice, every centimeter of your glorious skin, and your eyes that that are bluer than the sky and deeper than any ocean. So, did you really think that a ten dollar hat that you conned Wilson into buying you at a monster truck rally and an old newspaper you garbage-picked were a sufficient disguise?"

It was a rare occasion that House didn't know what to say, but this was one of those times – from the fear caused by anyone knowing him that well to the bliss that someone would love him that much to notice. "So, when you said all those things, you knew I was listening?"

"Of course," Cuddy replied.

"You've never said those things to me," House said.

"You'd never let me," Cuddy replied.

"True," House said quietly. "Cuddy, I've never told you . . . "

"You do, every time you touch me," Cuddy interrupted him.

"I don't think you had much to eat tonight," House said. "I brought home leftovers."

"What did you order?" Cuddy asked.

"Calamari and linguine," House replied.

"Red or white clam sauce?" Cuddy inquired.

"Red, " House responded. "There's salad and garlic bread, too."

"It sounds like you didn't eat much, either," Cuddy stated.

"I got distracted by these people at the next table," House explained. "There was this idiot rich guy trying to get into this woman's pants, and she spent the whole time . . . declaring her undying love for her husband." House had been trying for snark, and it might have worked, if his voice hadn't broken.

Cuddy took House by the hand. "Let's go eat, okay?"

They headed into the kitchen and ate the leftovers.


	69. Chapter 69

A/N: My apologies upfront for my use of Spanish in this chapter. It's been years since I studied it in college, and I never used it much after that. I also have no idea how to properly use the punctuation marks on my keyboard (the matilda in the upper-left corner looks at me mockingly as I am stumped figuring out how to get it over the appropriate letter "n"s.) So, to any Spanish-speaking readers who are cringing at my spelling, I'm terribly sorry.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs**

True to Jennifer Walsh's word (and thanks Ann Miller's connections) the court date to finalize the adoption was the last week of October. The process had finally reached the stage where it became the "mere formality" it was supposed to have been from the beginning.

The time of the hearing was 10:00 a.m. So, at 8:00 a.m., the House-Cuddy household was quite an exciting place to be.

Rachael had been given special permission to stay home from school. Daniela was helping her get dressed. Rachael simply couldn't decide what to wear.

"Este," Daniela held up a frilly, pink, short-sleeve dress, "Es bonita."

"It's not warm enough," Rachael stated, "And it's too small."

"And this?" Daniela asked as she held up a simple, brown, long-sleeve dress.

"Too plain," Rachael replied, wrinkling her nose. Rachael continued to dig through her closet, determined to find the perfect outfit.

"Nina," Daniela cautioned, "Too many clothes on the floor."

"Sorry," Rachael said. "I just have to find something." She suddenly remembered going shopping with her mom just before school started. She had been begging for all kinds of clothes. Cuddy gave in to many of her demands, but when Rachael pulled a beautiful velvet red dress off one of the racks, Cuddy had told her no, saying there was no occasion for her to wear it. How Rachael wished she had that dress right now. It would have been perfect.

There was a knock on the door. Cuddy was holding Michael in one arm, balanced on her hip, and she had something behind her back that Rachael couldn't see. Daniela took Michael, and headed to his room to get him changed and dressed. She was happy to be with a member of the family who wouldn't argue with her about what to wear.

As Cuddy entered the room, Rachael was putting the clothes she had strewn all over the floor back into her closet. When she finished that, she sat on the bed and sighed. "I'm sorry I'm not dressed Mommy, but I just can't seem to find the right thing to wear."

"What about this?" Cuddy asked as she pulled the red dress from behind her back.

Rachael almost screamed with delight. Then, she hesitated. "But I thought you said we couldn't buy that dress. That I wouldn't have a place to wear it."

"Well, I think we found a place, don't you?" Cuddy asked with a smile.

Rachael almost grabbed the dress out of Cuddy's hands. She had it on and was admiring herself in the mirror in what seemed like a matter of seconds to Cuddy.

Cuddy was wearing a form-fitting lavender-grey suit with a low-cut cream top underneath. It was complimented by the white-gold Celtic pendant she had worn at the wedding, and her favorite, four-inch-heeled, navy-blue, open-toed pumps.

On the other side of their home, House seemed to have no trouble picking out his wardrobe. It was the same suit and tie he had worn to the interview with the social worker. It wasn't like House had a vast array of suits to choose from. Luckily, Cuddy had thought to retrieve it from the pile of clothes House had tossed on the chair in their bedroom and had had it cleaned and pressed. House was still convinced that if you looked up ugly in the dictionary, there would be a picture of the tie he was putting on. But House knew Rachael would love that he was wearing it. House had decided this was going to be Rachael's day -- maybe because it would make her happy, and maybe because he had never had a single day in his childhood that could be called _his_ day.

They met in the kitchen and gave each other approving looks on their wardrobe selections. (House was particularly happy about the cleavage display afforded by Cuddy's top.)

Daniela had finished making breakfast and gave each of them a plate of eggs. They had an interesting color.

"Why is my breakfast the same color as shit?" House asked. As usual, there was no filter between his brain and his mouth.

"House!" Cuddy admonished as she looked askance at her own plate. Only Rachael seemed un-phased by the food in front of her.

"Huevos con queso y salsa mole," Daniela announced, as though she were talking to a room full of slightly slow children.

"Eggs with cheese and mole sauce," Rachael translated. "They're really good."

"I won't be having gas in front of the judge because of this, will I?" House asked as he waved his hand over his plate.

Rachael giggled. "Oh, Daddy, just eat it."

House's mind suddenly went elsewhere. He imagined Rachael sitting at the table in five years, responding to House's comment. He could see her tween self saying, _Ew gross_, and giving him an exaggerated sigh. In ten years, he saw her not speaking, simply shooting him the I-wish-you-were-dead-glare that only teenagers can give to their parents. In twenty years, he imagined her blush as she became embarrassed in front of her fiancé. And, in thirty years, he imagined her daughter giggling as Rachael gave him a disapproving look and told him _Don't teach her that, please_.

The eggs turned out to be delicious, and no one spilled anything on their finery because Daniela had somehow managed to find and distribute napkins the size of Honduras to each of them.

"So, after you see the judge," Daniela said," "You will return los hijos aqui?"

"Yes, we'll bring the children back here after we're done," Cuddy responded. She was picking up some Spanish because of Daniela.

"Gracias para los huevos deliciosos, Senora," House said. He felt he needed to remind Daniela from time to time that he could speak Spanish fluently.

"De nada, Senor," Daniela replied with a slight blush. In the short time she had known House, she had quickly figured out that he could be a royal pain in the ass, but she also had observed that he respected his wife and adored his children. Despite whatever other stuff he could do to make her life difficult, that was enough for Daniela to think of him as a good man.

They headed out to the garage to climb into the van. Neither House nor Cuddy had been thrilled with the idea of buying one, but when Cuddy's car was totaled in the accident, they decided that with two kids and all kinds of paraphernalia they needed to tote around because of the baby, they'd just have to do it. It made both of them feel a little old and settled, which was what they were, but they didn't always want to be reminded of that. House's car was a not-awful looking sedan that had enough élan that Cuddy didn't mind being seen in it, and House still had his motorcycle when he needed to be reminded of his younger, wilder days, so they had learned to cope with the kidmobile.

The courthouse was in Trenton, so it was about a half-hour away. Cuddy had decided to drive because the parking, as it is in most downtowns, was terrible, and if they couldn't find parking close by, she could drop off House and the kids and go find a spot. Luckily, they found an empty handicapped space. They parked, hung the sign on the rear-view mirror and proceeded into the building.

Neither House nor Cuddy had very happy memories of the courthouse. To House, it was the place where Tritter attempted to complete his vendetta by sending House to prison. For Cuddy, it was the place where House had been put in danger, and the place she had been able to save him, but at the expense of having to perjure herself. Every once in a while, when Cuddy was especially stressed, she would still have that dream where she was found out and both she and House went to prison. So, Cuddy hoped today would create some more pleasant memories for them. House, on the other hand, just wanted to get it over with.

After they went through security, they were greeted by Ann Miller. Instead of heading to the room were House's hearing had been, she directed them to the other side of the building, where family court was. This was an immense relief for House and Cuddy.

Ann showed them into what looked like a conference room. Michael had been sleeping in his carrier and started to wake up. Cuddy took him out and decided to feed him, since they didn't know how long they would have to wait or how long their time in court would be, and the last thing they wanted was to have to deal with a hungry, crying infant at the wrong moment.

After Michael was finished, a court officer knocked on the door and told them the judge was ready.

They filed into the courtroom. Rachael was a little nervous because she knew the judge would talk to her before he made his ruling. He called her up to the bench. She walked carefully up the steps.

"So, you are Rachael Cuddy?" the Judge asked her.

"Yes, Your Honor," she replied.

"And you want to become Rachael House?" the Judge questioned.

"Yes, Your Honor," she repeated.

"Why?" the Judge asked.

Rachael wasn't expecting that question. She thought carefully for a moment. "Because I'm my mommy's daughter, and my brother's sister, and I want to be my daddy's daughter."

"Why is that?" the Judge inquired softly. He wasn't trying to intimate Rachael, and he was impressed with her dignity and self-assurance. That spoke of a well-raised child.

"Because I love him," Rachael answered honestly, the only way she knew how.

The judge smiled and told her she could step down. She went carefully back down the stairs to join House, Cuddy, Michael, and the attorney, who were seated at a long table.

"Most of what I see in this courtroom is not the happiest side of family life," the Judge began. "Custody battles, abuse, neglect, children in trouble with the law, and parents unable to cope with their responsibilities. This, in spite of the fact that the people involved are, most of the time, their own flesh and blood. That's why I find the adoption cases I preside over so extraordinary – people accepting responsibility for someone else's child or children and loving them as though they were their own. "

"Dr. House," the Judge continued, "In your case, I see something even more extraordinary. You had no need to proceed with this adoption – it cost you time, money, and, probably the worst for you, forced you to re-visit some difficult and painful times in your past. And yet you did it anyway, all to re-affirm, in a very public way, the deep affection you feel for this little girl. In my mind, that is the definition of unconditional love."

"Rachael," the Judge went on, "Today is the day, one that most people never see in their lifetimes, that someone declared publicly that he loves you enough to take care of you and nurture you until you can do it yourself, and that you will be family to him for the rest of his life. You are probably too young to understand what an amazing gift this is, but, someday, I suspect you will, perhaps when you have children of your own. I imagine your telling your children, your grandchildren, and if you are lucky enough to live that long, your great-grandchildren, about this day that will surely be one of the happiest of your life. Cherish it."

"So," the Judge concluded, as Ann motioned for everyone at the table to rise, "I have carefully reviewed the brief submitted by counsel, the social worker's report and all supporting documentation. Based upon these documents, I have determined that the adoption of Rachael Cuddy by Gregory House shall be considered final as of this day and time, and that she shall now be known as Rachael House. Congratulations!" The Judge brought down his gravel.

House couldn't really bend down well enough or long enough to give Rachael a hug, so he sat back down in his chair. She was crying as she approached him. "Daddy," was all she was able to choke out as her sobbing intensified and she fell against him.

House encircled her in his long arms and kissed her all over her face and hair. He was crying, too, and in a very public place. He simply didn't care.

He looked up at Cuddy, and she had a river of tears falling freely down her face. She knelt down and put one of her arms around Rachael as she was holding Michael with the other. House moved his long arms so that he was holding all three of them. It was a group hug, something that House had mocked his entire life, and yet he wasn't sure anything non-sexual (a quite a few things sexual) had ever felt this good.

After a few minutes, the attorney reminded them that someone else needed the courtroom. She said she could try to find them another conference room if they needed it. Cuddy told her they were fine.

They walked out to the van. House got out his keys and got in the driver's seat. It was almost 11:30. "Why don't we go out to lunch?" House asked.

"I'd love to," Cuddy sighed, "but I have a meeting at 12:30, so I'm going to have just enough time to get home, drop off the kids and get to work."

"I don't have school for the rest of the day," Rachael said, "So could we drop you off so you can go to work and Michael can be at home with Daniela, and then Daddy and I can go to lunch?"

"Well, your Daddy should really be at work, too," Cuddy warned.

"I don't have a case right now," House reminded her, "And I'm no more behind on clinic hours than I normally am. So, can I? Can I, please, please?"

House was giving her his best set of puppy-dog eyes, while also trying to keep his eyes on the road. Cuddy turned to the back seat and saw Rachael doing the same.

Cuddy remembered what the judge said about this being a memorable day for Rachael. "Okay. But if you don't get a case, I expect you to be in the clinic by nine tomorrow," she admonished House.

House groaned theatrically, "O-_kay_," he said, sounding like a spoiled nine-year-old. Of course, he didn't tell Cuddy he planned to call his team and Cameron this afternoon to have them scour the hospital looking for potential cases.

They arrived home and left Michael with Daniela. Cuddy went to work.

House and Rachael were in the van. "Where do you want to go?" House asked. "Do you want to go to lunch somewhere in the mall and maybe catch a movie after?"

House wanted to be with Rachael, but the idea of lingering over a long lunch trying to make conversation with a six-year-old girl made him nervous.

"I'd rather go someplace we could talk," Rachael said. "Unless you don't want to talk to me."

_Uh-oh_, House thought. _Why is this kid so damn good at reading me sometimes?_ "It's not that," House responded. "It's just that it's your day, kid, and I wanted to make sure you had a good time."

"Okay," Rachael said, still sounding unconvinced.

"Well, then, where would you like to go?" House asked, bracing himself for the answer.

"Where did you go on your first date with Mommy?" Rachael asked.

"I'm not driving to Ann Arbor on the off chance that some hole-in-the-wall restaurant with Tears for Fears on the jukebox still exists," House proclaimed.

"Who's Ann Arbor and why is she afraid of crying?" Rachael asked. "Does she think someone will stand on the box and see her through the hole in the wall?"

House could feel a smile tugging at his lips. "Never mind," House replied. "Let's just say it was a long time ago and it wasn't anywhere near Princeton."

"How about when you proposed to Mommy?" Rachael asked.

"We were in her old house," House said.

"Didn't you go out to celebrate?" Rachael questioned.

"We were in the middle of moving and she was expecting Michael and we were telling everyone in the family . . . " House paused at Rachael's puzzled look. "Let's just say there was a lot of stuff going on and we didn't have the time."

"We could get sandwiches and go to the park," House suggested.

"It's kind of cold for that," Rachael replied. "Besides, I don't want to get my new dress all dirty."

It finally dawned on House that Rachael wanted to do something more grown-up than just hang out or go to some kid-oriented eatery. She wanted to go to a nice restaurant and talk, just like she must have imagined adults did when they wanted to celebrate something important.

"I think I know a place," House said, turning down a side street. He pulled into a small parking lot that only had a few cars in it. The place apparently didn't do huge business on a Tuesday at lunch.

They got out of the car and walked to the entrance. They had been seated at a table for only a brief time when a waiter stopped by.

"Dr. House, what a pleasure to see you again," the waiter exclaimed. "Dr. Cuddy is not with you, I see."

"She had a meeting she had to attend, Mario." House couldn't believe he actually remembered the man's name. It was a minor miracle, not that House believed in such things.

"And who is this lovely young lady you are with?" Mario asked with great solemnity and flourish.

"This is my daughter, Rachael," House replied, attempting to be dignified, or at least somewhat serious. Or at a minimum, not his usual ass self.

"It cannot be," Mario proclaimed. "The last time she came with you, she was a baby and sat in a high chair. It is not possible she has grown into this beautiful young woman."

"Thank you," Rachael said, blushing.

House remembered why Cuddy liked to come here. The staff made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, even when she was having a bad day. House liked coming here because if Cuddy felt beautiful, he was more likely to get some when they got back home. House was with his daughter now, so he pushed that last thought out of his mind.

"You are both so nicely dressed," Mario commented. "Are you celebrating something?"

"Yes," House responded. "My adoption of Rachael was finalized today."

"Such a happy occasion," Mario gushed. "We will bring you a bottle of champagne!"

"Um, thank you," House said, "But Rachael can't drink it and I can't drink a whole bottle myself and drive home."

"We will come up with something," Mario declared with determination. "I will leave you to look at the menu."

House began to peruse the menu when he noticed Rachael hesitating. "Do I have to order off the kids menu?" Rachael asked. "It's all burgers, chicken fingers and spaghetti."

"I thought you liked spaghetti," House teased.

"I do, but . . . " Rachael faltered.

"But you want something a little more like an adult would order," House ventured. "Let me look and see what you might like. Hey, do you ever like the stuff that Andie cooks?"

"I like everything Aunt Andie cooks," Rachael replied.

"When your mother was in the hospital, Andie made some veal with lemon sauce that had mushrooms," House recalled. "Did you like that?"

"It was really good," Rachael replied. Her stomach growled. "Sorry."

"Just means you're hungry and you'll enjoy the meal," House responded, hoping his own stomach wouldn't betray him at that moment.

The waiter returned with two fluted glasses filled with . . . something.

A single glass of sparking wine for you, Dr. House," the waiter stated, setting it down in front of him, "And a glass of ginger ale for Miss Rachael. Here is your infused olive oil and bread as well."

"Would you like me to leave you to toast," the waiter asked, "Or would you like to order first?"

"We'll order," House answered, knowing how hungry both he and Rachael were. "She'll have the veal piccata, and I'll have the seafood fra diavolo."

"Excellent choices," the waiter stated. "I will be back with your salads in a moment. I'm assuming the house dressing will be acceptable. How could it not be, for Dr. _House_?"

After he left, Rachael asked,"What did that mean?" Sometimes adults said the most convoluted things.

"It was a bad joke," House answered. "Hey, let's toast. To my beautiful daughter. When I'm old and sick and sucking money out of the accounts like a hungry vampire in a blood bank, please don't push me down the stairs to spare what's left of your inheritance."

Once again, Rachael had no idea what House was talking about. "Could you make a real toast?" She asked. If House hadn't known she was adopted, he would have sworn she had inherited Cuddy's trademark annoyed-with-his-foolishness voice.

"Okay," House replied. "To the best daughter any father could ever want. I love you, baby girl." They clinked glasses and each took a sip. House was sure this was a three-dollar-a-bottle Asti Spumanti, but he understood that the restaurant couldn't afford to provide him with a complimentary glass of Dom Perignon or Moet and toss the rest of the bottle.

"My turn," Rachael said. "To the best father in the world. Thank you for adopting me, and I love you very much."

House was about to protest that he was hardly the best father, heck, he was hardly in the top seventy-fifth percentile. He refrained because Rachael didn't want or need to hear that. He also knew something about expectations. When John had expected him to screw up, most of the time he did. Because John was so critical, he only excelled in the things he knew John wouldn't appreciate. The opposite was true when he and Cuddy got together. She somehow expected him to be worthy of being her soul mate, and, at least some of the time, House thought that he actually might be. So, if Rachael expected him to be a good father, maybe he would at least be able to make the attempt.

They hit their glasses together once again and took another sip. This was definitely the three-dollar-a-bottle stuff. House hoped Rachael got the Canada Dry, at least.

The waiter appeared with their salads, unobtrusively placed them on the table and retreated.

"Do you know what all these different leaves are?" Rachael asked warily as she gingerly picked through it. Her idea of exotic salad contents was romaine instead of iceberg lettuce.

"Nope. You'd need Wilson or Andie for that," House confessed as he chewed. "It's all just rabbit food to me."

Rachael decided to try some. It was peppery and bitter, but the creaminess of the dressing tasted really good with it.

They finished their salads and Rachael reached for the bread. "What's infused oil?" she asked as she looked at the plate of oil in the middle of the table.

"It means they put an herb in it, so it takes on the flavor of the herb," House answered. He had heard some of what Wilson had been trying to teach him about food in spite of himself.

"What is this herb?" Rachael asked. "It looks like pine needles."

The waiter had come by to pick up the salad plates. "It's called rosemary," he interjected. "It is from an evergreen bush and it's delicious."

Rachael tentatively dipped a piece of bread it in. She tasted it and made a face.

"It's an acquired taste," Mario commented with a smile. "Shall I bring you some butter?"

"Yes, please," Rachael replied.

The butter was quickly brought to the table and Rachael and House ate some bread.

"What the judge said today was really nice," Rachael said.

"It was certainly a lot of words," House responded. "I liked what you said better."

"What was that?" Rachael asked. She had been so nervous she couldn't remember anything she had told the judge.

"That you wanted to be my daughter and that you loved me," House stated.

"You knew that already," Rachael said.

"Yeah," House replied, "But it's still good to hear. In my life, there haven't exactly been people lining up to tell me they loved me."

"Why not?" Rachael asked. "You're very loveable."

House couldn't help but snort at that. "You have to be one of the few people on the planet who believes that."

"How could they not love you?" Rachael said, almost sounding angry. "You're kind and loving."

"Not to most people," House countered.

"Why?" Rachael asked again.

"Because most people are not interesting." House replied. "Or they really don't care. Or they think they care, and when things become difficult, they leave . . . "

"I'll never leave you," Rachael stated, trying to be reassuring.

"Sure you will, kid," House responded. "It's okay, because you're supposed to. You're supposed to go away to college, find a job somewhere, and meet some guy, get married, have kids -- none of which requires me being around."

"I'd like it if you were around," Rachael interjected.

"Yeah, me too," House said. "But sometimes it doesn't work out that way."

"You mean like you live here and Grandma House lives in Lexington," Rachael noted.

"Something like that," House said. Of course he didn't tell Rachael that he was thrilled that his family didn't live anywhere close by, which was especially the case when his father was still alive.

While they were discussing all this, the waiter had brought the entrees and they had started eating.

"How do you like yours?" Hose asked.

"It's a little different than the way Aunt Andie makes it, but it's good," Rachael said. "Do you want to try some?"

"Sure," House said. Rachael pushed her plate towards House and he cut off a small piece of the veal and took a couple of mushrooms.

"Want some of mine?" House asked. "Just to warn you, it's kind of spicy."

Rachael hesitated for a moment. She decided that if this was going to be like a grown-up meal, she really should try at least a little. "Okay."

House spooned some pasta and a couple of shrimp and scallops on her plate. He decided he wouldn't push her to taste the calamari.

House tasted the veal. It was different than Andie's, mainly because it had a lot more breading on it. Probably a way to make it look like there was more food without having to actually use more of the expensive ingredients.

Rachael gamely tried the fra diavolo. "It's hot," she said, quickly reaching for her ginger ale.

"That won't help you, kid," House told her. "Try some bread."

She grabbed a slice of bread and ate it. The fire in her mouth calmed down.

"How can you eat that?" she asked.

"As you get older, your taste buds die, and you can eat food that is more and more spicy," House replied, "Provided your stomach doesn't give out."

"Oh," Rachael responded. It seemed to her that adults inexplicably seemed to do a lot of things to inflict unnecessary pain on themselves. Maybe she'd understand it better when she got older.

They were finishing up. Mario came by to offer to wrap their leftovers, and to see if they wanted dessert of coffee. They were both too full for dessert, but House wanted some coffee and he ordered Rachael a decaf cappuccino. After the coffee was brought to the table, House reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a small package. "This is for you," he said awkwardly as he placed it on the table next to Rachael.

Rachael unwrapped it quickly. It was a velvet box, so Rachael knew it was some kind of jewelry. She opened the box and found a gold chain and pendant. It was two triangles joined together by a heart. "Is it real gold?" Rachael asked breathlessly.

"Fourteen karat," House replied as he sipped his coffee.

"What does it mean?" she questioned.

"It a symbol of adoption," House answered. "One triangle represents the birth family, the second triangle represents the adoptive family, and the intertwined heart is supposed to represent the love both families feel for the child."

"Do you think my birth family loved me?" Rachael asked.

_Wow, that's a tough one_ House thought. He didn't know if Rachael's birth mother loved her. Cuddy had found Rachael after House had diagnosed, what was her name? Oh, Natalie. So, she was no longer his patient and he hadn't kept track of what happened, other than knowing that Rachael's birth grandparents didn't want to raise her. Rachael's birth father most likely believed he loved Rachael, but it was more of a selfish kind of attachment that didn't allow for him to think of the impact of his actions or take into account what would be best for Rachael. House couldn't possibly explain all that to Rachael without screwing it up, or so he believed, so he deflected. "I wasn't involved when you're your birth mother was still alive, so that's more of a question for your mom, kid."

"Anyways, this is beautiful," Rachael said, fingering the pendant in the box. "Oh, it's got writing on it, my name and the date."

As Rachael was examining it, she turned it over and noticed more engraving. "_I love you always, Daddy_" she read. "Can you help put it on?"

"Sure," House replied. Rachael came over to his chair and turned around so House could put it around her neck and close the clasp. House hadn't been sure about the length of the chain when he bought it, but the pendant seemed to rest in the middle of her chest, so House guessed it was okay.

Rachael wanted everyone to see her beautiful necklace and read everything it said. "Why is some of the writing on the back?" she asked.

House was about to answer honestly that the jeweler had told him there was too much wording to fit, and that they would have to leave something off. The engraver had come up with the idea of putting the rest of the wording on the back.

"I know," Rachael stated. "It's so the part about you loving me always will be closest to my heart."

House debated about being totally honest with her, but would that have served no purpose, other than to make her feel foolish about believing he he was making a statement that he loved her, which was the last thing he wanted to do. Once again, everybody lies.

They had finished their coffee and the waiter had given them the check. House gave him his credit card and signed the receipt when it was returned. Mario made the appropriate complimentary remarks about Rachael's necklace and told them to come back soon.

They got in the van, and as they pulled out of the parking lot, House could see Rachael checking out the necklace in the rearview mirror. "I take it you like it, huh?"

"I love it," Rachael said. "I'm going to wear it every day for the rest of my life."

House couldn't help but smile. "Let's go home, kid."


	70. Chapter 70

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc., Except OCs**

Halloween came and went. Cuddy and Andie took the kids around the neighborhood. Rachael was a princess, of course, and Catia was a sort of glam-witch. At first, House thought Michael's costume needed to be masculine to offset all the glitter around him. When he saw the prices of the tiny leather biker's costumes on-line, he quickly realized that Cuddy's discount store find of a pea pod was a good idea. Sure, it was a little humiliating, but if they took a lot of pictures, it had serious blackmail potential in future years if Michael brought home some girl House didn't approve of. The fact that no matter how much Cuddy struggled, she just couldn't get Michael's unruly patch of black hair to keep from sticking out from under the hat (stem) of the costume was just a smile-inducing bonus.

Wilson and House were tasked with manning their respective home stations. In Wilson's case, that consisted of feigning wildly exaggerated fear at the "scary" ghosts, goblins and ax-murder victims he saw who rang the doorbell, and handing out fistfuls of candy.

As would be expected, House dealt with the trick-or-treaters in his own inimitable style, which consisted of limping heavily to the door, while making as loud a thumping sound with his cane as possible, opening the door grumbling audibly about "damn pesky kids," and a doling out a single piece of candy to each child in a miserly fashion. The fact that he had taken a nap and his hair was sticking up wildly all over the place and that he was all in black, including a Black Sabbath t-shirt with a skull that contained bleeding eyeballs, just added to the effect. He was even able to use his totally terrifying diabolical laugh when some older kids gave him a hard time about his candy-distribution practices. They ran for their lives. House felt a great sense of accomplishment over that.

After Halloween, the adoption party preparations began in earnest. Cuddy organized everything in the house from top to bottom, including all of House's stuff, which, of course, made him complain when he couldn't find something exactly where he had left it. Cuddy also hired a cleaning service just to make sure everything was in top form. She didn't want to hear a lot of comments about the state of her home from her mother and sister. They still had a few rooms that could have used some more furniture. Cuddy was beating herself up about that when House reminded her they really hadn't had the time to do anything about it, what with settling in from the move, the wedding, honeymoon, the after-effects of the accident, Michael's birth, car shopping, returning to work and the adoption. Cuddy knew House was right, but she braced herself for some cutting remarks from her mother and sister nevertheless.

The party was at 1:00 in the afternoon. Andie and Wilson had volunteered to help set up, so they were due at noon. Cuddy made one last pass in the morning, picking up any stray toys or papers and cleaning any last-minute spills, stains or smudges. The bathrooms were so sparkling clean, House complained that he couldn't use them, and threatened to use a tree in the yard, or, if he had to take a dump, that he would be forced to go to the nearest gas station. His irritation abated quite a bit when he saw what Cuddy was wearing. Her top was perhaps a bit light for this time of year, but, in keeping with their plan, the fabric was thin enough to allow him an opportunity to cop a good feel of her breasts. Her black pants skimmed her body, showing off her curves, but also had enough room for House to get his hands into them to fondle her ass, or touch even more luscious parts.

Cuddy insisted House wear a turtleneck and a blazer. She didn't want to dig through three layers to get to his torso, plus, she loved the idea of "unwrapping" the base of his neck and kissing and nibbling on it. He also wore a pair of not-too-tight dress jeans, just so she could fondle his nether regions at will and when the opportunity presented itself.

Rachael, with no agenda other than to look pretty, wore her red velvet dress with the pendant House had given her. Cuddy hadn't known about House buying the necklace and having it engraved. When she came home from work the night the adoption was finalized and Rachael showed it to her, there had been quite a few tears. Later that evening after Rachael and Michael were asleep, Cuddy had rewarded House with a strip-tease and a lap dance, prompting House to wonder what Cuddy would do if he had bought some jewelry for _her_. Well, Hanukkah was coming.

Daniela arrived at noon to get Michael ready. Although Rachael had wanted her as a guest, Cuddy insisted on paying her for her time, knowing that she and House would be busy with their other guests, and, um, . . . things, and that they would need someone to watch Michael.

Wilson and Andie were there shortly after Daniela. Catia went to play with Rachael in her room. Rachael had decided not to invite any friends from school, because she and her friends were in a higher grade than Catia, and she was afraid they might leave Catia out or pick on her. Some of the girls in her class had already made fun of Rachael because of her friendship with the younger, darker-skinned girl. While Rachael didn't believe her friends would do that, she wasn't one-hundred percent positive that they wouldn't, maybe without thinking, and she didn't want to risk ruining the day. (House would have told her that's what Cuddy's family was for.)

Cuddy, Andie and Wilson put all the non-perishable food items on the dinette table in the alcove near the kitchen and had the perishable items ready to take out of the refrigerator at the proper time. They had the food that needed to be heated in the oven, warming up.

Cuddy had decided not to pay for wait staff, opting for a buffet. It saved a serious chunk of change, which made House happy. She also knew that if the wait staff wasn't one-hundred percent perfect, it would prompt comments from her mother and sister. The buffet forced them to serve themselves, so they would have no one to complain about.

Of course, Cuddy expected complaints about the food, that it was either too plain or too fancy, that it was either too hot or too cold or lukewarm, or that there wasn't enough or that there was too much. Every time she got tense about something, she remembered The Plan. At least it would give her someplace to put all that nervous energy.

Blythe had opted not to attend, saying it was difficult for her to travel all that way for a one-day event and that she would prefer to spend more time with them for the holidays, if that was okay. House was never one to miss an opportunity to avoid seeing his family, so he readily agreed. Rachael didn't seem too disappointed, remembering the conflict that had resulted during her grandmother's last visit. What was it with adults? It was bad enough kids didn't get along, but didn't adults know any better?

It was one o'clock, and the first to arrive were Hadley and Foreman. They never knew how tired she would get as the day went on, so much of their social life involved getting somewhere on time, and then leaving early if necessary. Taub and his wife were next, followed by Chase, Cameron and Randy. Cameron had just started her eight month. Because the rest of her was so small, she looked about ready to pop at any time.

The last to arrive were the Cuddy clan. Rather than take two cars, they all fit into David and Lena's van. When the doorbell rang, Cuddy braced herself and went to open it.

"Hello, dear," Judith said as Cuddy showed them in and gave her mother a peck on the cheek. "I never thought I'd actually get to see your new house."

House had come up behind Cuddy and planted a series of slow, soft kisses up the side of her neck.

"Aren't you even going to acknowledge us?" Cuddy's mom asked House in an irritated voice. Their plan already seemed to be getting under her skin, House observed happily. "Hello, Judith," House replied. He saw so little of her that he felt uncomfortable calling her by her first name, but since he was an adult past fifty, he was not going to call her "Mrs. Cuddy." And he sure as hell wasn't going to call her "mom." She'd have probably killed him if he did, anyway.

"Bill," House put out his hand to shake the one offered by his father-in-law. House was pretty sure Cuddy's father was not his biggest fan, but he was also sure that he accepted him simply because Cuddy married House and had his child. Bill seemed to be able to come to terms with the reality of the situation and to have at least some faith in his daughter's choices. Unlike his wife, he was also proud of her accomplishments.

David and Lena and their kids had come in behind Cuddy's parents, so Lena had seen House nuzzle Cuddy's neck and she was already slightly jealous. "Your front yard needs to be mowed," she remarked to Cuddy as they exchanged pecks on the cheek, "David can give you the name of our landscaper, if Greg isn't able to take care of the lawn."

"Nice to see you, too," Cuddy said, her voice sounding like she was joking, although House could hear the edge in it. He began to lightly stroke her shoulders, and he tenderly kissed the other side of her neck, starting at her collarbone and going up toward her face. Cuddy sighed contentedly," It's not that he can't do it. It's just that we never seem to find the time . . . " She leaned toward House and they kissed deeply. Since Cuddy was turning her head back to reach House, it was visible to everyone that some serious tongue was involved.

The kids blew past them to go find Rachael, who they liked well enough, even though they had informed her on a few occasions that since she was adopted, she wasn't really "real" family. Cuddy didn't get angry at them, since she assumed Lena had expressed that view frequently enough in front of them that they believed it was true. Cuddy had informed Andie about her sister's attitude toward adoption, just so she would know if they decided to say anything to Catia. Andie assured her she would straighten either the kids or Lena out, if it was necessary. Cuddy had no doubt she would.

House and Cuddy broke the kiss and rested their cheeks against each other, smiling. Cuddy could see her mother's exasperation growing, and her sister's envy was written all over her face. The Plan was working great so far.

Cuddy' father was just about to ask where his grandson was when Daniela came out to the foyer with Michael. "Miguel, son tu abuelo y abuela," Daniela said, pointing to Bill and Judith, "Y son tu tio y tia."

"Lisa, please tell me you didn't hire a wetback to look after my grandchildren!" Judith exclaimed. For all her pride in her alleged Spanish ancestry, she had nothing but contempt for the living, breathing people who spoke the language and were actual cultural descendants of the country.

"I am a citizen of the United States," Daniela proclaimed proudly. "Doctor Cuddy asked me to use Spanish with the children so they could learn the language."

"Damn, my wife is clever." House stated as he placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

Daniela handed the baby to Cuddy's father. "What a handsome boy!" Bill proclaimed. "He has your hair, sweetheart."

"Good thing," Lena stated with a sneer, "If he took after his father, he'd be losing it prematurely."

"Thinning hair is just a sign of high testosterone levels," Cuddy said with a seductive smile as she pulled down House's turtleneck and kissed and nipped at this neck. She finished and said, "Besides, he has House's gorgeous blue eyes." She placed her hand on his cheek and gently pulled House's face toward her. She softly kissed each of his eyelids.

The PPTH contingent at the party was gathered around the dinette table, sampling the hors d'oeuvres. They were near the back of the house and couldn't hear what was being said, but they could see how House and Cuddy were behaving.

"What's the deal with them?" Foreman asked Wilson. "Is Cuddy back on the fertility meds and did you prescribe some blue pills for House?"

"Well," Wilson lowered his voice as he looked around conspiratorially, "I understand there's A Plan."

"What plan?" Taub inquired, as curious as Foreman about his boss's sudden and uncharacteristic fondness for PDAs.

"Cuddy only invited her family because Rachael asked her to," Wilson informed them. "Cuddy's mom and sister drive her crazy. My understanding is that House and Cuddy plan to annoy the hell out of them by engaging in nearly every form of affection in front of them, short of, you know . . . "

"Doing it?" Chase asked. "I wouldn't even mind seeing that, as long as I didn't have to see House naked. Seeing Cuddy undressed would be excellent."

"Ditto," Hadley agreed.

Foreman shot a glare at Hadley.

"Hey, I wouldn't mind seeing Greg naked. You remember that foursome we were talking about the other day?" Andie glanced at Wilson.

Of course, he turned bright red. "We were talking about getting a baby sitter to watch the kids so the four of us could go out to dinner," Wilson stated with exasperation.

"Sorry," Andie responded, a small smile playing on her lips. "My mistake."

"Don't you have a comment about who you'd like to see naked?" Chase asked Cameron, bracing himself for her to declare her undying attraction to House.

Cameron seemed distracted. "What? Oh, you, of course. Hey, does anyone know where the bathroom is. I really have to pee."

Cameron had obviously moved into the I-can't-wait-until-this-kid-is-born stage of the pregnancy. Wilson pointed out the powder room. "We should get a house all on one floor," Cameron called over her shoulder to Chase as she waddled across the family room.

"Somehow, I don't think she's really into The Plan," Taub observed dryly.

In the front of the house, Cuddy's dad had given Michael to Cuddy's mom. She held him rather awkwardly.

"He won't bite," House commented. "He's just starting to get teeth . . . " At that moment, a huge drop came of spit came out Michael's mouth on to Judith's sleeve. " . . . .So, watch for drool," House completed his sentence. "Oops," House said in mock consternation.

Cuddy handed her mom a burp cloth as Daniela took Michael. "I just bought this sweater," Cuddy mother said as she furiously dabbed the spot, obviously upset. "I hope the dry cleaner can get this out of cashmere."

"Stop making such a big deal out of it," Bill stated with irritation. "It's a little bit of spit. Lena's kids peed, pooped and puked all over you and you never said a thing."

"Would you like to hold him?" Daniela asked Lena.

"Um, no, that's okay," Lena demurred.

There was an awkward silence.

"Maybe the other guests would like to see Miguel," Daniela said, with obvious annoyance. She simply couldn't understand how an aunt and uncle and grandparents wouldn't be fawning all over this beautiful little boy. No wonder Dr. Cuddy didn't see her family very often.

Cuddy's father walked past House and Cuddy, following closely behind Daniela, at least showing some interest in his grandson. David went with them, no doubt checking to see if there was going to be any chance to get any action with the other female guests, House surmised.

"Well, would you like to see the house?" Cuddy asked.

"I guess," Judith answered.

House was about to snark that Cuddy's mom shouldn't drown them with her enthusiasm, when he remembered The Plan. As they turned around and walked in front of Judith and Lena, House slid his free hand down the back of Cuddy's pants and began to fondle her ass. Cuddy slid her hand in House's pants and did the same. They both smiled as they heard the sounds of disapproval coming from Cuddy's mother and sister.

The tour began with the library. "It could use more furniture," Lena remarked.

"We're working on it," Cuddy said.

"You've been in the house over six months, Lisa," Lena stated. "You should have more accomplished."

House thought about pointing out that Cuddy had been busy with a few life-changing events like moving, getting married, giving birth, recovering from a serious car accident, and the fact that she worked at least fifty hours a week, not including the work she brought home. Instead, he simply said, "she has other priorities." He took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly on the cheeks, forehead, nose and chin. His lips met hers and he gave her so deep a kiss it was practically a tonsillectomy.

"Is that really necessary?" Judith asked.

"It's essential," Cuddy remarked as she came up for air. "Let's go to the dining room."

"This is your old dining room table, isn't it?" Lena said with disdain.

"Since the room is bigger, I'm finally able to use all the leaves and chairs," Cuddy stated triumphantly.

"Does it still have the water stains from when you had that leak in the roof?" Lena asked.

"It's distressed," House said, "That just makes it more valuable."

"By that logic, you must be worth a fortune," Lena commented, looking at House.

"He's absolutely priceless," Cuddy stated. Ordinarily, she would have said this with sarcasm, but her voice was nothing but gentleness and affection. She put her hands on the sides his face and he closed his eyes as she gave him a series of soft kisses. Her mouth found his and she playfully pulled on his bottom lip. This time it was her tongue seeking his tonsils.

"Lisa," Judith said sharply, "Can we get on with this?"

They broke the kiss and headed toward the children's rooms and the guest room, once again fondling each other's behinds as they walked in front of Cuddy's mom and sister.

Their next stop was the kitchen. "This is a lovely kitchen," Judith commented. Cuddy counted to herself, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "It's rather a waste, isn't it, since you can't cook?"

"Cuddy can cook," House responded. "You just have to know where her fire is." As he said this, his hands slipped down the front of her pants and one hand found her lips, while the other found her clit. He began to stroke both parts slowly.

"Ummm," Cuddy said, "that is delicious."

"Lisa!" Judith had finally been pushed over the edge. "I want this to stop."

"What?" Cuddy said with an innocent smile.

"You're practically having sex in front of us!" she exclaimed. "It's disgusting."

"A husband and wife loving and wanting each other, and not afraid to show it." Andie had entered the kitchen. "I think it's pretty hot."

"Who the hell are you?" Lena asked, sounding just about as angry as Judith had.

"Andie Miles, I live next door," Andie said, extending her hand. She was hardly surprised when Lena refused to shake it.

"This is a family matter," Judith stated. "It's none of _your_ business."

"Oh," Andie replied. "You mean like helping your daughter move was none of your business? Or going to her wedding was none of your business? Or visiting her in the hospital when she was seriously injured in a car accident and your grandson was born was none of your business?"

"We were not invited to the wedding," Judith sniffed, "Nor were we welcome at any of the other events you've mentioned."

"Gee, I wonder why," Andie said sarcastically. "How's today going so far? Have you complimented your daughter on her new home? Have you congratulated her on her marriage? Have you even said anything the slightest bit positive about your own grandson?"

"I said she had a lovely kitchen," Judith replied defensively.

"Only as a set up to put her down by telling her she couldn't cook," Andie retorted. "Nice. You're almost as big a bitch as my mother, and that's saying something."

"How dare you!" Judith shouted.

At this point, Rachael came in to the kitchen. "Grandma, why are you and Aunt Andie fighting?"

"Aunt Andie?" Judith questioned angrily. "Lisa, how can you possibly let your child call this horrible woman 'Aunt'"?

"Mom, Andie's been kinder to me in the last seven months than you and Lena have been in the last twenty years!" Cuddy defended her friend.

"Hey!" Rachael jumped in. "Isn't this supposed to be a party? Aren't we supposed to be celebrating Daddy adopting me?"

"I'm not sure that having him for a father is anything to celebrate," Lena said in her most cutting voice.

"Shut up!" Rachael yelled. "Stop saying those awful things about my Daddy!" she ran to House and put her arms around him.

"It's okay, kid. Don't let it upset you," House said, trying to reassure her. "I'm used to it."

"Well, you shouldn't be!" She continued, shouting.

To Cuddy, it was obvious Rachael was very wound up at this point. Cuddy was sure Rachael had wanted the perfect party, and here the adults were messing it up for her. Cuddy also saw that, as usual, Rachael was extremely protective of House.

"It's not a big deal," House continued trying to soothe her.

"It is a big deal!" Rachael was really beyond calming down. "You don't deserve to have people treat you like that! You're a wonderful father . . . I wouldn't . . . love you . . . so much . . . if you weren't . . . " Rachael was hiccupping and sobbing at this point.

House sat down in one of the chairs next to the island and pulled Rachael on to his lap. "Don't cry, baby girl, it's okay," he said as she sobbed into his shoulder. He held her in his arms, rocking her and lightly stroking her hair. "I love you, too," he murmured softly.

While this drama was playing out, everyone else at the party had come into the kitchen. Wilson and Andie weren't surprised to see House comforting Rachael, and Cameron had seen House do it in the ER after the car accident, but it was a bit of a shock to Chase and House's team.

And, of course, Cuddy's family was completely astonished. Cuddy's father was pleased to see the tender side of House. It explained why his little girl loved this man so much. He wasn't a total jerk after all. Of course, Cuddy's mom and sister didn't like this display. It seriously messed with their view of House as evil incarnate.

Rachael had calmed down a bit. "Don't let your party be ruined by a bunch of idiots, okay, kid?" House asked as she blew her nose and wiped her face with a tissue Cuddy had given her.

"Okay," she agreed, smiling at what House said. She hugged him and kissed him, and climbed down from his lap.

"Did you see the necklace Daddy gave me?" she said to the PPTH contingent. House became uncomfortable. He had imagined it would be sort of a thing between him and Rachael, and, possibly Cuddy. He didn't know it would go public. He was sure he'd have to deal with some serious mocking from Wilson and his team.

"Can I see it, sweetie?" Bill asked.

"Sure, Grandpa," Rachael said.

"What does it mean?" He asked.

"It's a symbol for adoption," Rachael explained to everyone, as House had explained it to her. "The two triangles are for the birth family and the adoption family. The heart is the love they both have for the child, who is me.'

"On the front is my name and the date we went to court, when the judge told us we were a family with the law," she continued. "And on the back it says _I love you always, Daddy_. Do you know why that's on the back?"

"No," Bill replied. "Why?"

"Because when I wear it, it's closest to my heart," Rachael said. "I figured that out without Daddy even telling me."

House felt like he was about to sink into the floor from embarrassment. Wilson and his team would have a field day with this. Heck, even Cameron had become cynical enough to make fun of him. And the worst part was that it wasn't going to happen now, in front of Rachael. He would have to wait for Monday morning. And anticipate it all weekend. Great.

But then the thought occurred to House that if it made Rachael happy to show it off, he supposed he could live with the disdain. He'd certainly lived through worse in his life. Much worse.

"What, no comments?" Andie asked as she looked at Cuddy's mom and sister.

"It's nice," Judith choked out, as though it was killing her to admit it.

"Gee, thanks," House acknowledged, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It is beautiful," Rachael said, her innocent eyes shining. "I promised Daddy I would wear it every day for the rest of my life."

Although he was afraid of the mocking he would see there, House looked at Wilson and his current and former team. All he saw was respect.

"Hey," Wilson said, "there's a ton of food here. Why don't we eat?"

They put the all the food on the dinette table and the kitchen island. Thankfully, it got a lot quieter when everyone was eating.

After they finished, there was still a major amount of food left. Cuddy braced herself for her mom or her sister to chastise her for the excess, but they remain unusually (and mercifully) quiet. Andie (and her assistant, Wilson), spent their time in the kitchen, dividing the leftovers for everyone to take home.

It was time for cake. Cuddy brought it out and put it on the dinette table.

"Happy Other Birthday, Rachael," Taub read. "Isn't that confusing?"

"Hey, Jews get to celebrate New Year's twice a year, so why can't the kid celebrate a second time?" House asked.

Both Lena and Judith opened their mouths to say something, but Cuddy shot them a glare that effectively kept them quiet.

Rachael blew out the single candle and everyone clapped. They cut the cake, and, again, everyone was quiet as they ate.

Foreman was probably the only one who noticed the slight tremor in Hadley's hand as she finished her cake. They were the first to leave.

Chase and Cameron were next. Randy wasn't overtired, but Cameron was in serious need of a nap.

Next were Taub and his wife. They thanked Cuddy, and Taub managed not to make any comments to House about Rachael and the necklace, since he decided he needed to keep his current employment.

Next were Cuddy's family. Her father kissed Michael several times as the little boy gurgled happily. "Do you mind if I stop by some time? Maybe some weekday afternoon? Would that be too much of a bother?"

"Ask Daniela, since she's the one most likely to be here," Cuddy replied.

"A father is always an honored guest in his daughter's home," Daniela insisted. "Especially when he comes to see his grandchildren."

Judith and Lena gave Cuddy very quick, perfunctory pecks on the cheek. No mention was made of either of them stopping by.

Daniela was leaving.

"Gracias para todo, Senora" House said.

"Doctor Cuddy . . . Su familia . . . " Daniela shook her head.

"Yo se," House concurred.

"What are you two talking about?" Cuddy asked.

"Just agreeing," House answered quickly.

Wilson, Andie and Catia were heading next door.

"Thanks for helping," Cuddy said as she hugged Andie, "With everything." It was obvious Cuddy was referring to more than the food.

"I feel like I'm wasting my time as a professor. I should start up a company: Tell-Off-A-Mom." Andie stated. "Are you an adult still having difficulty dealing with your mom? Call Tell-Off-A-Mom and Andie will do it for you!"

A smile tugged at the corners of House's mouth. "You do seem to have a talent."

"The irony is, I've never actually confronted my own mother," Andie admitted.

"Hey, I'll do it for you," House said.

"I'd pay for tickets to _that_," Wilson stated.

"Let's go," Andie said, looking lovingly at Wilson and giving him a kiss on the cheek that lasted a good five seconds.

After they left, Cuddy heard Michael waking up from his nap. She went to feed him.

"I'm sorry that the party wasn't perfect, kid," House said.

"It was good enough, though," Rachael replied. "I mean the food and everything."

House sensed she wanted to ask him something. "What is it?"

"Why are Grandma Cuddy and Aunt Lena so mean to Mommy?" she asked.

"I don't know," House answered honestly. "Sometimes people don't get along."

"Even when they are in the same family?" Rachael questioned.

"Especially when they are part of the same family," House replied.

"That doesn't make any sense," Rachael stated.

"When it comes to emotions, it rarely does," House admitted.

"Do you think we'll ever be that way?" Rachael asked fearfully. "Not nice to each other?"

"I'm not nice now, kid," House answered.

"I mean, not loving each other," Rachael questioned.

House knew through bitter personal experience that there were no guarantees, so he was just as likely setting himself up for failure as anything else. Rachael could easily wind up loathing him -- the old, crippled, misanthropic bastard -- when she was a teenager. When he realized this, a pain shot through him that was worse than anything associated with his leg. He simply couldn't let that happen. Of course, he had no clue how to prevent it. What had Wilson said? Welcome to life as a human parent.

"Hey, we'll be okay. We have it engraved, remember?" House said, setting his uncertainty aside, at least for the moment.

"Can I watch TV with you?" Rachael asked.

"I TiVo'ed a monster truck rally on Thursday," House responded. "Come on."


	71. Chapter 71

A/N: I apologize upfront for any wrong medicine in this chapter. Consider the medicine pure fiction, too.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Except OCs**

It was a week later. Cuddy wanted to thank Andie for all her help at the party, and for other things. She had invited Catia for a sleepover with Rachael that Saturday night. The idea was that Wilson and Andie would go out to dinner and have an evening at home, alone.

The problem was that one of Wilson's pediatric patients had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Wilson wound up spending the day and evening at the hospital. Andie had decided to cook and hoped for a romantic dinner for two at home, even if it was a little late. Wilson called her at eight from his office to say he was finishing up and that he would be home by eight-thirty. When ten came and went, and Wilson hadn't come home, Andie started to get worried. It wasn't like him to be late and not let her know what was going on, and she couldn't reach him on either his office or cell phone.

At 10:30, there was a knock on her door. It was Cuddy and she looked terrible. "What's going on?" Andie asked, the fear rising inside her.

"Wilson got hurt in the parking garage of the hospital," Cuddy explained, trying her best to keep calm, both for Andie's sake and her own. "House is next door with the kids. I'm going to take you there and he's going to drive you to the hospital. I'll stay here tonight and get a sitter tomorrow, so I can join you at the hospital."

Andie was glad to hear that Cuddy had the situation with the kids under control, but she wanted to know what had happened to Wilson and how bad it was. "Do you know anything about James? How did he get hurt? Was there a car accident?" There were just so many ways you could get hurt in a parking garage, and since the rest involved violence of some sort, Andie actually hoped Wilson had been tired and pulled out without looking and maybe had a fender-bender with another car. The thought immediately occurred to Andie that there probably weren't enough cars in a hospital parking garage late on a Saturday night for Wilson to have an accident. "Oh God," she said, "did he get robbed or something?"

"I don't know," Cuddy fudged the truth. House had talked to Cameron and he told Cuddy that a security guard had found Wilson lying on the floor of the garage within about twenty feet of his car. Cameron had told House that Wilson had been beaten and he was in pretty bad shape, but she couldn't go into specifics about the damage until they had done x-rays and an MRI. Of the two choices, telling Andie what little she knew, or telling Andie nothing at all, Cuddy wasn't sure which one would panic Andie more. She opted for more information.

"Apparently, he was beaten," Cuddy said.

"My God, who would do that?" Andie exclaimed. Andie was sure Wilson would have given a robber any money or credit cards he had, so there was no reason to hurt him, unless it was done just for some sick thrills. The possible scenarios just kept getting worse.

"Let's not worry about that right now," Cuddy said, trying to keep both herself and Andie together, "Lets just get you to the hospital to be with him."

Andie grabbed her coat, wallet, keys and cell phone and put them in her pockets. Cuddy walked her over to their house, where House had his coat on and was waiting in the foyer for them.

"What the hell took you so long?" House asked angrily. He obviously would have left earlier if he hadn't had to wait for Andie.

"Take it easy, House," Cuddy said, moving her head in Andie's direction, in what she hoped was a subtle move to indicate Andie wasn't in the best shape to be yelled at.

"Whatever," House said. "Let's just get in the car, okay?"

Andie nodded and followed House out the door. She had wanted to check on Catia. Andie recognized that it would have done nothing but wake Catia up, cause Catia to worry and delay their departure. It was just that whenever she got bad news, her first instinct was to go and protect her child. Andie's mind was glad she didn't do it, but her heart wanted it so much.

Andie wasn't paying attention to how many speed limits and traffic laws House broke on the way to the hospital. Luckily, late on a Saturday night in early November, the streets weren't busy.

House had a handicapped space next to the building, so they could go right in. He headed past the main lobby into the emergency room as fast as his leg would allow him. Andie would have run ahead, but she had no idea where she was going. She always met Wilson in the lobby or the cafeteria.

House went to the front desk of the ER. "Where's Cameron?" he demanded.

Cameron emerged from one of the curtain areas. She walked toward House as fast as her largely pregnant body would allow her to.

"Where's Wilson?" House barked. "What the hell happened?"

Cameron knew that if she tried to explain it, House was so stressed he would just have taken her head off. There was no way she could have handled that, what with her exhaustion, hormones, and the fact that she was so worried about Wilson herself. She simply handed him the file and told him Wilson was being prepped for surgery.

House took the file and headed toward the surgical department. A part of Cameron felt guilty for not talking to House, but she knew it would probably be easier for him to process the information about Wilson's condition by reading the file.

Cameron wasn't sure about Wilson's exact condition, but she knew it wasn't good. She had never seen anyone so badly beaten and mutilated in the seven years she had worked in the ER. She also knew the x-rays had shown multiple fractures, and that the MRI had shown brain swelling. If the swelling was bad enough, Wilson could die, and even if it wasn't bad enough for that, it was severe enough to cause permanent brain damage. The only good news Cameron could see was that the preliminary results showed specific areas of swelling, which meant surgery could relieve it. It was small comfort.

When Andie and House arrived at the surgical wing, he directed her to the chairs for family members. House left her there and went to scrub in. He limped into the operating room. The neurosurgeon had finished drilling holes in Wilson's skull and had set to work relieving the pressure on his brain. A nurse told House that Wilson had crashed twice and they had revived him fairly quickly. They were still giving him large quantities of blood because of internal bleeding. From the MRI, they were pretty sure it was his spleen, and possibly one of his kidneys, but they needed to operate and stop the bleeding as soon as they could.

"Why haven't you opened him up yet?" House demanded as Chase worked on Wilson's abdomen.

"His skin is cut, and I can't cut him open until I stop at least some of the bleeding, Chase said as he applied pressure. "Oh, Dear God."

"What?" House asked. He limped over to look as Wilson's abdomen and saw what Chase was seeing. There was a swastika carved in Wilson's belly.

House felt the blood leave his head for a moment. He quickly snapped back "Get on with it!" he shouted.

Chase opened Wilson and began checking for sources of bleeding and repairing them. Wilson crashed one more time, but when the surgeries were complete, he seemed to be fairly stable. He was wheeled into recovery.

House didn't want to leave Wilson, but he remembered Andie was waiting outside. He told the surgeons he would update her on Wilson's condition.

When he got there, House found Andie being interviewed by a detective. She was telling him she didn't know of anyone who would want to hurt Wilson.

House asked the detective to wait for a few moments. He updated Andie on Wilson's condition, leaving out most of the really scary stuff like the number of times they had to revive him and how much blood he had lost. House told her that she would have to wait a while longer before Wilson went from recovery to intensive care. He said he would arrange for a nurse to come and get her when that happened. He then turned to the detective.

"Can I please continue my interview with Ms. Miles?" he stated more than asked.

"I don't think she can help you," House said.

"What do you mean?" the detective asked.

"It was a hate crime," House declared.

"How could you possibly know that?" the detective questioned.

"Wilson's Jewish," House said.

"People are beaten up and their religion most times has nothing to do with it," the cop replied.

"That, and the swastika that's been carved in his belly," House informed him.

"Shit," the detective said. "I'd better get the security tapes and get them to the Hate Crimes Task Force. You can expect to hear from them by tomorrow at the latest."

He went off to find a security guard. House saw the nurse come and get Andie. At least Wilson had lived through recovery. He realized he hadn't spoken with Cuddy since he left with Andie for the hospital.

"Hi," Cuddy said as she picked up her phone. "How is he?'

"He lived through surgery, even though they used the paddles three times," House reported. "They drilled holes in his skull to relieve the pressure from the swelling, and he had significant damage to his spleen and kidneys, but Chase managed somehow to repair them, at least for now. He's got broken ribs and his hands and face are smashed up pretty well."

"Dear God," Cuddy said. "Why would anyone do this to Wilson, of all people? I take it there wasn't a robbery."

"The security guard found his wallet under his car. It had his license, credit cards and cash," House replied.

"Was it just some sick people looking for a thrill?" Cuddy asked, trying to make sense of it.

House really didn't want to tell Cuddy, but he knew the Task Force would be contacting her tomorrow, and he didn't want her to be blindsided. "It's a hate crime."

"What?" Cuddy responded, completely confused. "How do you know that?"

"He had a swastika cut into his abdomen," House answered. He waited for Cuddy's reaction. There was a long silence. "Cuddy?"

"I called Daniela and told her to bring at least a weeks' worth of clothes. She'll be staying in the guest room. She can get the kids on the bus during the week and cook breakfasts and dinners. I also have a ton of stuff in the freezer that Andie and Wilson made." Cuddy stated without emotion. She suddenly realized what she had said. "House . . . " Her voice was breaking.

"Just hang in there until Daniela gets there tomorrow morning. Then you can come to the hospital and tell us how we're doing it all wrong," House said softly, with no trace of snark in his voice. He was not capable of putting into words how much he wanted to hold her right now.

"I'm going to check the security system," Cuddy said. They were not in any danger, as far as she knew. She just needed to do something to make her feel safer.

"Go ahead," House said. "I'm going to see how Wilson is. I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Thanks," she said. "House?"

"Yes," he answered.

"I love you," she croaked.

"I love you, too," he said, his voice wavering.

The call ended. House found he was alone for the first time in a long while. He pulled himself up from the chair and headed for the men's room to splash water on his face. He entered the room and headed for the sink. Suddenly in his mind he saw the bloody swastika that was sliced into his best friend's body. He turned and went into one of the empty stalls. He vomited until there was nothing left in his stomach. He flushed the toilet, went to the sink and washed away the vomit and tears from his face.

* * *

House quietly entered the intensive care unit. The nurse at the desk directed him to Wilson's room.

House stopped outside the glass walls of the room. He really saw Wilson for the first time. Wilson's face was one large bruise, with stitches traveling all over it. _So much for the boyish good looks_ House thought. From what he remembered from the operating room, the rest of his body looked as bad or worse.

House noticed Andie for the first time. She was sitting at the foot of the bed. Her hands were holding Wilson's feet. Every so often, she would bend down and kiss one or both of them.

"What are you doing?" House asked as he entered the room.

"His hands are so busted up, I can't touch them, and I don't think it's much comfort to him if I kiss his casts," Andie replied. "I'm using his feet as a substitute. I just hope he can feel what I'm doing."

House looked at Wilson carefully. "I'm sure he can feel it," He replied.

"How do you know that?" Andie asked.

"Look," House said, pointing to the place between Wilson's legs. "He's so horny for you that your kissing his feet while he's under sedation is enough to get him stiff."

"Is that a good sign?" Andie asked.

"Could be," House said noncommittally. He knew that he wanted to believe Wilson would survive this and get most of himself back. House just had no way of knowing if that would be the case, and felt he owed it to Andie to be honest. "He's in pretty bad shape. He may have brain damage. He may never fully recover."

"I know," Andie said, the tears slipping down her cheeks.

"Can you handle it if he's not who he was?" House asked.

"He'll never be who he was, even if he recovers completely physically," Andie stated. "He'll never be that open and trusting again."

"He may be with you," House said.

"And you and Lisa," Andie added. "I know you're not much of a 'team' kind of guy. And I know you're pretty busy with your own life right now, but I think I'm going to need your help."

House was amazed at how open Andie was about asking for assistance. Of course, she was the first one to offer it if she could, so maybe she just expected everyone else would be the same way. House also guessed that, given her family situation, she'd had to rely on friends for a lot of help over the years. House understood that very well.

"You're going to get it whether you want it or not," House stated.

Andie gave House the tiniest of smiles. "How long before we know anything?"

"Well, we'll keep him sedated for the next twenty-four hours or so," House informed her. "After that, we'll have to see when and how he becomes conscious. You may want to go somewhere to get decent rest since he's not going to be waking up tonight."

"I can't go home now," Andie admitted. "His stuff . . . his smell . . . him . . . he's all over my house."

"I wasn't suggesting that," House said. "There's a hotel across the street for family members of people staying here. I could walk you there." House remembered mocking Cuddy when she was in negotiations with the hotel chain to locate there. It turned out she had had another good idea.

"I think it would be better if you didn't," Andie said softly as she looked at House's leg. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"I have a fold-out couch in my office," House told her. Cuddy had insisted on it two years ago, after House had spent a week non-stop in the hospital sleeping in his office chair because of a case, and his leg became so bad that he had needed morphine to relieve his agony.

"I hate to leave him," Andie said.

"You'll need to be less than totally exhausted when he wakes up," House reminded her. "We don't know what we're dealing with here."

"Should I call the hotel?" Andie asked.

"Go to the ICU nurses' station, I'm sure they can help you," House replied.

Andie kissed Wilson's feet one last time. She tucked the blankets around them and kissed his battered forehead. "James, I know we're not used to sleeping apart, but I'll be just across the street if you need me. I love you so much."

Andie left the room and went to the nurses' station. They had a brief discussion and House could see that they were calling somewhere. An orderly showed up a few minutes later and took Andie to the elevators.

House looked at Wilson and the monitors. Everything seemed to be stable at this point. "It's totally unfair and manipulative to do this, but a lot of people need, you, Wilson. You have no choice but to get better and help us, okay?" House leaned over Wilson and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead.

He looked at Wilson a little longer, and then left the room and headed to his office. He closed the blinds and locked the doors. He opened up the couch and put the sheets, blankets and pillows he stored on his shelf on the bed. He turned off the lights, stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers, got in bed and called Cuddy.

"Are you getting any sleep at all?" he asked.

"Not much," she admitted. "How is he?"

"He's stable. Listen, Andie's going to need a few changes of clothes," he informed her. "And so am I."

"I have a duffel bag packed for you," Cuddy said. "I packed some stuff for Andie when I went to get some clothes for Catia at about midnight."

"Who was watching the kids?" House asked.

"Daniela showed up at about 11:30," Cuddy responded. "She said it might be helpful to have someone around tonight. I almost left for the hospital after I got all the clothes together, but Daniela insisted I stay because I was too tired to drive."

"Wise choice," House concurred. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay," Cuddy replied. "I love you."

"I love you, too," House told Cuddy for the second time that night.

He put his phone on the floor next to the couch. He tried to settle down, but there was something lumpy in the pillow case. He reached in and pulled out, of all things, a teddy bear. There was a note attached. House reached for his cell phone and turned it on to provide sufficient light.

_You should be home instead of dealing with some sick patient. Since you're not, here's someone to keep you company. Yes, I can hear you mocking me from here. Wilson._

House was so exhausted. He turned off his phone and put it by the side of the bed again. As House tried to sleep, he observed that plush animals don't mind being squeezed very hard, and they absorb tears very well.


	72. Chapter 72

A/N: Again, the medicine in this chapter may be way off base. Please bear with me.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Dont' Own, Etc, Except OCs**

House woke up to the feel of soft hands on his cheeks. In his sleepy haze, he thought he was at home in his bed with Cuddy. His favorite time of the week was early mornings on Sunday when he and Cuddy would lazily make love, fall back to sleep and then later find their bed full after Cuddy had brought Michael in to feed him and Rachael had joined them.

It took him a couple of seconds for him to realize it was a much less pleasant situation he was facing today. He opened his eyes, and Cuddy was lying next to him, fully clothed and on top of the blankets. He had a bunch of questions he wanted to ask her, but he decided it could wait for a little while as moved the blankets for her to get under them and pulled her close to him. God, he needed this so badly, her next to him, letting him know with her presence that not everything had gone to hell. He guessed she needed the same thing.

Finally, he spoke. "What time is it?"

"About seven-thirty," She replied.

"What time did you get here?" he asked.

"I woke up about six," she answered, "I showered and got everything together. When I arrived across the street at the hotel, Andie was waiting for me. I gave her clothes to her and left to let her shower."

"How is she?" House questioned.

"Exhausted. Terrified. Doing her best to hold it together," Cuddy responded. "Just what you would expect."

"How's Wilson?" House asked. He knew that the first thing Cuddy would do when she got to the hospital would be to check on him.

"Stable," she replied. "He hasn't regained consciousness yet, but he's still sedated, so that doesn't mean anything. Andie's with him."

"I have to go check on him." House stated.

"You should probably shower and get dressed first," Cuddy told him. "The police called and the head of the task force and a couple of other detectives will be here at nine. You're going to need to talk to them."

"I'm not sure what I can tell them, but, whatever," House said. He got up slowly, holding his leg. He took some pain meds, got back into his clothes from the previous night, and grabbed the duffel with his clean clothes and headed for the showers in the third floor doctor's lounge. When he was finished, he met Cuddy in the cafeteria. He took a few bites of the omelet she bought him, but he mostly wanted the coffee. She went to her office to talk to the chief of hospital security in order to prepare for the police and he headed up to Wilson's room.

House entered the room. Andie was in the same spot as she had been last night – at the foot of the bed holding Wilson's feet and bending down to kiss them every so often. She was also singing softly, a tune House recognized. The words were in Latin, so it took him a second to figure out what it was. He cleared his throat. "Here's some coffee."

"Thanks," Andie said, looking like she was caught in the act. "That's great."

"Cuddy thought of it," House shrugged. He actually had bought the coffee when he refilled his cup before he left the cafeteria. He didn't want anyone finding out he was being thoughtful. He had a reputation to protect.

"Well, thank Lisa for me," Andie said, sounding like she knew House was lying.

"Ave Maria?" House questioned, trying to get the focus of the conversation away from his good deed.

"A lapsed Catholic-turned-atheist singing a Catholic hymn in Latin to a non-observant Jew," Andie observed. "It would funny if it weren't so pathetic. My nona used to sing it to me when I was sick or upset to make me feel better. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"I'm not one of those doctors who thinks that people who are unconscious hear what's being said to them. There just isn't any scientific evidence to support that," House told her bluntly. Of course, he would never admit to telling Wilson to get better the night before. "But if it helps you cope with things, then . . . "

"What's next here? I mean, do we know what to expect?" Andie said, trying to change the subject herself.

"Not really," House said. "As I told you last night, we'll probably keep him sedated until at least tomorrow morning. After that, we'll wean him off the sedatives and see what happens."

"Are there any indications of brain damage?" Andie asked.

"It's almost impossible to tell at this point," House answered honestly. He was in his detached doctor mode now, relaying the information calmly. "There are some positive signs."

"Like what?" Andie asked, afraid to either hope for the best or think of the worst.

"His pupils are equal and reactive, and he responds to pain stimuli, which means that his autonomic system is working," House informed her.

"That means he's not brain dead, right?" Andie asked.

"Yes," House answered, "which also means he probably won't need a respirator once he's off the heavier sedatives."

"That's good news," Andie said, attempting not to sound like she was grasping at straws. "What about higher brain functions?"

"There's no way to tell until he's awake," House told her.

"It's going to be a long day," Andie said.

House's pager went off. It was Cuddy. "I gotta go. I'll be back later."

House left intensive care and called Cuddy. She told him the police were at the hospital and that they were meeting in a conference room on the fifth floor that had video equipment so they could look at the security tapes. House didn't think watching his best friend get beaten to a bloody pulp was the optimum way to start the day. In fact, he dreaded it. But if it helped the police find out who did this, he would have to suffer through it.

When House arrived at the conference room, his team was there in addition to the police. "Why are they here?" he asked Cuddy.

"We are going to be interviewing most of the doctors in the hospital and we thought we'd start with the smallest department," the head of the task force replied. His name was Koslowski, and he struck House as being thorough and no-nonsense. While he wouldn't appreciate House's unique sense of humor, he also probably wouldn't be sensitive enough to be offended by it, either.

The members of your department have already answered some preliminary questions," Koslowski stated, "And I understand you spoke to a detective last night."

"I didn't tell him much, other than it had to be a hate crime because of the swastika," House answered.

"Let's look at the security tapes," Koslowski said. "Maybe one of you will recognize one of the assailants."

Cuddy reached under the table and grabbed House's hand. House also noticed Foreman and Hadley doing the same thing. And, in a complete surprise to House, Hadley had unobtrusively placed her other hand on Taub's shoulder.

One of the officers put the tape in and sat back down. They watched as Wilson entered the parking garage, keys in hand, heading for his car. Three figures emerged from in back of a pillar and grabbed Wilson from behind. They started choking, hitting and kicking him as he struggled. The shock and fear was evident on his face. Unfortunately, they had their faces covered. One of them took a big swing.

"Stop the tape," Foreman yelled, letting go of Hadley's hand.

The frame was frozen. One of the attacker's arms was raised, fist clenched, ready to hit Wilson yet again. "I recognize that tattoo!" Foreman said. It was an Iron Cross, a swastika and something written in German.

"Where did you see it?" Koslowski asked.

"I was working in the clinic," Foreman continued. "Wilson told me this guy came in with an infection from a stab wound. He was fine with Wilson treating him until he saw Wilson initial something."

"What does that mean?" Koslowski asked.

"Wilson's full name is James Evan Wilson," Cuddy replied.

"Excuse me?" one of the detectives asked.

"J.E.W.," Koslowski said.

"Apparently the guy turned nasty, said he wouldn't let a kike treat him and insisted on another doctor," Foreman said. "Unfortunately, I was the only other doctor working in the clinic that day."

"I can imagine how well that was received," House stated. "I'm guessing the 'n' word was involved."

"With a side of expletives," Foreman added.

"When was this?" Koslowski inquired.

"I don't know the exact date," Foreman replied. "Sometime in August, I think."

"We shouldn't have had so few doctors on staff in the clinic," Cuddy remarked.

"Hadley was home sick with the flu," Foreman said, "And Taub was on vacation."

"Where was House?" Cuddy asked.

"He told me he had an appointment," Foreman answered.

"Was it late August?" House asked.

"Yes, I think so," Foreman answered.

"I was having my interview with the social worker for the adoption." House stated.

"Well, if we know the date, we should be able to figure out who it is," Kislowski said, "by going through the clinic files for that day."

"You'll need a court order for that," Cuddy reminded him.

"It won't violate HIPPA if we look through them first," Hadley observed. "We can at least eliminate women, children, senior citizens, Asian Americans, African Americans, and Hispanics."

"I remember treating a twenty-five year old with Down's syndrome," Foreman said. "We can take him off the list, too."

"Even if we find the file," House asked, "How do we know he didn't use an alias?"

"Well," Kislowski said, "As far as we know, he came in to get treated, not pick out a victim. He expected a white, Christian doctor, so he would have had no reason to lie. Besides, you are attributing too much cleverness to these guys. If they had any intelligence, they'd get an education and a real job, instead of sitting around on their asses blaming other people for their problems."

"I have a question," Hadley stated. "If the thing that pissed this guy off occurred in late August, why did he wait until November to hurt Wilson?"

The table was silent for a few moments. "There is something about early November . . . " Taub said, thinking out loud. "What is the date today?"

"November 11," Cuddy replied. "Veteran's Day."

"Which means yesterday was the tenth . . . It was the anniversary of Kristallnacht," Taub said.

"So, they decided to conduct their own little pogrom," House said. "Hey, Foreman, you'd better lay low on Kwanza."

"It would be easy enough with the internet for him to find out the physicians on staff who were Jewish or African-American and treated him, as well as anyone in administration, too," Kislowski said. "We'd better get some police protection for them and their families."

Cuddy and Taub were on their cell phones immediately.

"Hi," Taub said with relief in his voice. "Do me a favor, okay? Go to your sister's in New York, alright?" Although Taub hadn't been in the clinic that day, he didn't want to take any chances.

Taub's sister-in-law lived in a predominantly Jewish section of Brooklyn. Taub figured these people would never find his wife there. Besides, her sister's husband was a six-foot-seven FBI agent. With a gun. It was about the safest place Taub could think of.

"Hi, Daniela," Cuddy said. "Is everything okay? Good. Do me a favor and don't open the door to anyone, and keep the kids inside today, okay? They are sending police to make sure you're okay, and they're going to be staying until we figure out what's going on. Call me when the police arrive."

Cuddy then called her own security department. "Whatever the police need . . . yes, I want a guard outside Doctor Wilson's room at all times. Thanks."

"Well, I'm going to get to work on that court order," Koslowski said. "My detectives will continue interviewing the staff, and if your doctors could look through the clinic files for that day and eliminate the patients who are obviously not suspects, that would help."

"We're on it," Hadley said as she, Taub and Foreman got up from the table.

House and Cuddy left together. "Where are you going?" House asked her.

"I have another meeting with my chief of security," Cuddy replied. "We're going to discuss temporary security measures, and he's supposed to have researched security consultants we can contact."

"Gee, that's just too exciting," House said. "Maybe I'll go check on Wilson."

"Let's hope that's boring, too," Cuddy stated, knowing that in Wilson's present condition, anything exciting could only be bad.

House went back to intensive care. Andie was still there, reading Wilson something from her laptop.

"What are you reading to him?" House asked.

"Well, I have to proof my book. I'm just reading it aloud so he'll hear the sound of my voice," Andie replied.

"Wilson's not exactly a history buff," House stated. "He might stay unconscious from boredom even after the sedatives wear off if you keep reading that to him."

"It's about the sexual habits of women in colonial America," Andie informed him.

"Oh," House responded. "Can I get an advance copy?"

"I thought you might think differently once you heard what the topic of the book," Andie said. "Why do you think James has been so eager to help me?"

Whatever lightness there was in their conversation evaporated.

House picked up Wilson's chart. Nothing had changed, which meant nothing had gotten worse, which was about all they could expect at this point.

"Lisa said the police were coming to the hospital," Andie stated.

"They were interviewing my team a little while ago," House told her.

"Did they find out anything?" she asked. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Well, we knew it was a hate crime because of the swastika," House said. He saw Andie wince. "When we watched the security tapes, Foreman thought he recognized a tattoo on the arm of one of them. He thinks it was a guy he and Wilson treated in the clinic in August."

"James treated a neo-Nazi in August?" Andie questioned. It was rhetorical; she was just trying to process what House had told her. "How did Doctor Foreman get involved?"

"Apparently, the guy threw a fit when he found out Wilson was Jewish, so he asked for another doctor to treat him," House said. "Foreman was the only other doctor in the clinic."

"I hope Doctor Foreman has police protection." Andie commented. "Do they think they can figure out who did this, then?"

"They're checking the clinic files as we speak," House responded.

"It's too late to help James," Andie concluded, "But if we can prevent this from happening to someone else . . . "

Andie figured House was worried about Cuddy. And Rachael and Michael. "What about Daniela and the kids?" Andie asked fearfully.

"They're getting police protection," House answered. "And when you go back to the hotel tonight, make sure someone from the hospital goes with you. Preferably one of those big, burly PT guys that work the shit out of me on a regular basis."

Andie's mind was elsewhere. "Dear God," she exclaimed, remembering something. "Why it's been since August. November 10. Kristallnacht."

"Yeah," House said. "Do you need anything right now?"

"Well, if you could make everything just like it was before last night that would be great. But I'm guessing you don't have a time machine or any magical powers." Andie requested. "Just go take care of Lisa, will you?"

"I will," House affirmed.

He looked at Wilson. He left and headed for his office. He found Cuddy there.

"Did the police find out the name of the guy?" House asked.

"And an address," Cuddy responded. "They're on their way to his place right now. Daniela called and the police are there, so they should be safe."

House breathed a sigh of relief. "It's almost lunchtime. Do you want to go get something to eat?"

"I'm not really hungry," Cuddy replied. She knew she would have to eat sometime, but she knew this wasn't it. "How about you?"

"I was barely able to eat the breakfast you bought for me," House replied. "And it's not like my appetite has improved since then."

There was silence between them. House got up, locked the doors and closed the blinds again. He took off his sneakers and his pants and crawled into the sofa bed that was still folded out from the previous night. He held up the blanket, beckoning Cuddy to join him. She knew there were fifty other things she should be doing right now, but she was so worried and exhausted, she gave in, took off her shoes and pants, and climbed into bed with him.

Neither had to ask. They reached for each other and held on.


	73. Chapter 73

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc, Except OCs**

When House and Cuddy woke up, it was late in the afternoon. They checked for calls and pages, and found there were none. They got up, got dressed, and neatened themselves up as best they could. Cuddy went to her office and House went to Wilson's room.

The TV was on. "It's a monster truck rally," Andie informed him.

"I was never sure he liked those," House commented. "I always thought he went just to please me."

"That does sound like James," Andie replied. "Except for the fact that he TiVos them on our TV and tries to get me to watch them."

"I'm meeting Cuddy for dinner in the cafeteria, such as it is," House told her. "Why don't you join us?"

"I'm not very hungry," Andie replied.

"Hey, I'm not the one who had to overcome an eating disorder," House reminded her. "Besides, you need to keep up your strength for Wilson."

"How did you know about my eating disorder?" Andie asked, not sounding particularly annoyed. "Should I just assume that telling James is the equivalent of telling you?"

"Pretty much," House agreed. "That's what everyone in the hospital assumes."

"It's a good thing I don't care that you know this stuff," Andie stated, saving House the trouble of asking if it was a problem how much he and Wilson shared.

"I hate to leave him," Andie said, looking over at his unconscious form in the bed.

"He's got monster trucks to keep him company until you get back," House stated.

"Okay," Andie reluctantly agreed.

When they got to the cafeteria, Cuddy was waiting for them. They got their food and sat down. Not unexpectedly, the cafeteria was pretty empty on a Sunday evening.

"Did you get in touch with Wilson's parents?" Cuddy asked Andie.

"This afternoon," Andie said. "They're going to get a flight tomorrow, and they should be here tomorrow night. I made a reservation for them at the hotel across the street."

"Have you ever met them?" Cuddy asked, trying to remember the last time she'd seen them. Was it Wilson's last wedding? No, it was Amber's funeral. She pushed that thought out of her mind.

"They were up here this summer, so I saw them at a couple of family things." Andie answered. They had tried to pretend it was a casual thing between them, but Wilson's family had seen through it. The fact that they couldn't keep their hands off each other probably had something to do with it. Andie wondered how long it would be before she would be able to jump Wilson's bones again. Maybe he wouldn't be interested in things like that anymore, especially if he was disabled in some way. Maybe he wouldn't even recognize her any more. She felt the tears slipping down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away before Cuddy and House noticed. No such luck.

"What, you told Wilson's mother off, too?" House asked in his snarkiest voice. "Afraid she'll deck you the next time she sees you?"

Andie smiled, grateful for the deflection. "No, I haven't, but there's always tomorrow or the next day. Have you talked to Daniela?"

"The police are there, so everyone is safe," Cuddy replied. Suddenly her cell phone rang.

"Doctor Cuddy," she answered. "Really?" Cuddy listened for a while. "That's amazing. Yes, that is good news. Thank you so much for the call."

"I could use some good news right about now," Andie stated.

"That was Lieutenant Koslowski. They arrested one suspect. His name is Mark Fulmer," Cuddy said, "And they got the names of about fifteen of his associates from his laptop, along with all kinds of evidence. They are in the process of rounding them up and bringing them in for questioning. Apparently, they've been trying to get this particular neo-Nazi group for a long time. So, this has been a major break in the case."

They sat at the table in silence. As reassuring as it was that they would not have to be afraid for much longer, it still didn't fix the awful damage done to Wilson.

"Well, I'd better be getting back to him," Andie said. "Are you going home or staying here tonight?"

"Staying here," House and Cuddy answered simultaneously.

"I'm going to see if I can finish up some work in my office before tomorrow," Cuddy said.

"I'll go with you to Wilson's room," House told Andie.

"See you tomorrow, Lisa," Andie said, not needing to remind her that they would find out just how badly Wilson's brain was injured.

"I'll see you in my office later," House said to Cuddy.

When Cuddy finished up in her office, it was almost ten o'clock. She stopped to take off her makeup and brush her teeth in the ladies room on the same floor as House's office. When she arrived at his office, he was sitting in his chair, reading a medical journal.

"Catching up on the latest discoveries?" Cuddy asked, pointing to the journal.

"Gotta keep up with those infectious disease mutations," House replied.

"Since you didn't page me, I assume no change in Wilson's condition," Cuddy stated.

House nodded in response. "Andie went to the hotel to try to get some sleep."

"I saw her leave the main entrance with a security guard," Cuddy acknowledged. "We're in for the night?" Cuddy asked.

"That sounds surprisingly not awful," House replied.

Cuddy locked the doors and closed the blinds. She took off her jacket and pants. She was wearing a tank top and sleep shorts underneath.

"It sucks when Wilson gets attacked," House proclaimed.

"For other than the obvious reasons, I take it?" Cuddy asked.

"Yeah," House responded, looking longingly at her breasts. "I just realized I haven't thought about the girls for an entire day."

"I'm sure they'll somehow survive the neglect," Cuddy smiled.

"I can make up for it tonight," House offered.

Cuddy didn't respond immediately. "That sounds tempting, but I'm exhausted and I'd think I'd rather cuddle."

"We can do that afterward," House stated. He realized that he really needed to connect with her tonight. "Please," he said, with more urgency in his voice than he intended.

Cuddy slipped off her top and sleep pants and climbed on the bed next to him. She tugged at his t-shirt and boxers and he pulled them off. They slid under the covers.

"I'm sorry if you feel like I've been avoiding or neglecting you. It's just that when I think of what happened to Wilson . . . and then to watch it today . . . I think if anything like that ever happened to your body . . . " Cuddy's hands caressed him as she started to cry, the weight of everything that had occurred finally catching up to her.

House's hands were caressing her as well. "It's not likely they would go after someone blue-eyed like me. They'd more likely want to hurt a powerful woman, one who happens to be Jewish . . . " House had just voiced his greatest fear. He pulled Cuddy close to him, kissing her face and neck, trying to hide the fact that he was shaking.

They continued to kiss and caress each other, finding both comfort and arousal in the way they were touching and being touched.

They held each other as tightly as they could. Cuddy felt House's erection pressing against her abdomen. She moved so that he was between her legs. She held him there for a while, rocking her legs and hips back and forth to provide some friction to keep him erect. She was enjoying the feeling of his desire for her.

"I need you," Cuddy whispered to him, opening her legs wider, allowing her to take all of him deeply inside her.

For his part, instead of rapid thrusting, House moved into and out of her slowly, loving every sensation of the feel of her around him.

This continued for a long time. Finally, they had both reached their limit. Cuddy's orgasm was intense, slow and long lasting, wrapping her body in complete warmth. House's release was also long and slow, and allowed him to continue the contact with Cuddy that he craved.

House stayed inside Cuddy as long as his body would allow. He finally lost his erection completely and slid out of her.

It was a cold night -- colder than normal for November in New Jersey. The fact that the hospital heating system was programmed to go to a lower temperature at night made the room even colder. House reached over to the end table on his side of the fold-out couch and pulled out a second blanket. He threw it over the bed, making sure that he and Cuddy were both wrapped in it. They pulled themselves close together, trying to keep the cold and their fears as far away as possible.

* * *

The next morning arrived and Cuddy and House got up, showered (with House complaining that the hospital should have co-ed showers so he could get some), dressed and headed down to the cafeteria for breakfast. It was Monday, so it was back to full staff. For once, Cuddy was thankful for House's fearsome reputation. It kept people from approaching her to ask about Wilson. It wasn't that people's concern bothered her (unlike House), it was just that she didn't know anything yet, so she had nothing to tell them if they asked.

Chase had informed her that they had begun cutting back on the sedatives during the night and that Wilson should start to become conscious, if he was going to, sometime this morning. Cuddy continued to keep her scheduled meetings, but she was distracted, waiting for a page to let her know it was time to go see him. It was a little after eleven when the page came.

House didn't have a case, so he had spent the morning in Wilson's room, watching TV and talking to Andie. At about ten-thirty, Wilson had opened his eyes and started to try to cough. House told Andie this meant Wilson was breathing on his own and that they needed to take him off the ventilator.

Once the tube was removed, House got a glass of water and put the straw in Wilson's mouth to let Wilson drink. The coughing subsided.

House checked his pupils, and asked Wilson to perform some simple physical movements, which Wilson did to the best of his ability, given his injuries. The fact that Wilson could understand and follow simple commands was a good sign.

After House finished his tests, Andie came closer to the bed. She was watching and waiting for some flash of recognition in his eyes. It would be tough to tell, given how terribly bloodshot they were from the beating, but she hoped for a little something.

"Hurts," was the first word Wilson croaked out.

"What hurts?" House asked from the foot of the bed, trying to make sure there were no acute pain conditions that might indicate specific problems.

"Ev-rey-thing," Wilson forced out of his throat.

"We had to cut back on the pain meds to assess your mental status," House informed him. "Once we understand that a little better, we'll give you something, okay?"

Wilson nodded slightly, trying to avoid hurting his throat, but he wound up giving himself additional pain in his head instead.

"How bad?" He croaked again.

House proceeded to describe Wilson's injuries, and Wilson at least appeared to understand.

Finally, after the medical situation was clear, Wilson turned his attention to Andie. "How are you do-ing?" he forced out.

"I've had more fun weekends," Andie said.

Wilson attempted to reach for her, but was stopped by the pain in his arms. He noticed the casts on his hands for the first time.

He looked back at her. "Hug?" he asked haltingly.

Andie leaned in carefully and gingerly put her arms around his shoulders. House saw Wilson close his eyes. "Love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," Andie replied as she carefully pulled back. She kissed him softly on his forehead, both cheeks, and lightly across his lips. His mouth was too swollen to kiss her back.

Cuddy had been observing everything from the back of the room. She stepped forward to let Wilson see her.

"Cud-dy," Wilson croaked.

"Don't try to talk," Cuddy insisted. She felt a flash of pain, remembering saying those exact words to House after the DBS all those years ago. She stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"How is he?" Cuddy asked House.

"He can't talk well enough to be too annoying," House snarked. "I'm sure that will change, though."

There was a pause in the conversation. "Your parents will be here this afternoon," Andie informed Wilson.

"No," Wilson whispered. "Too up-sett-ing."

"Still trying to protect and help people from your hospital bed?" House commented sarcastically. "Give it up, Wilson. Besides, Andie hasn't told off your mother yet. I'm selling tickets for that to help defray your medical expenses."

"House!" Cuddy exclaimed.

"Um, I don't think this is getting him too distressed, Lisa," Andie commented, using her head to indicate that Cuddy look at Wilson. Sure enough, there was a small smile on his swollen lips.

Wilson shifted slightly in bed. Suddenly, a grimace crossed Wilson's face.

"What is it?" House asked.

"Back," Wilson hissed.

House checked the catheter bag and didn't see anything wrong. Cuddy went to the nurses' station to get another check of his levels.

"Is there a problem?" Andie asked fearfully.

"It may just be that his back hurts," House said, "But we want to make sure it's not his kidneys."

The levels were checked and everything seemed to be okay.

"I'm going to give you some pain meds now," House informed Wilson. It was a strange role-reversal.

Once Wilson had been given the painkillers, he relaxed. He fell asleep within ten minutes.

"His brain is in good shape, right?" Andie asked House and Cuddy hopefully.

"Well, we don't know if he remembers the finer points of his specialty, but he seems to have most of his social skills intact, such as they are," House stated.

"Considering what he's been through, he's doing very well," Cuddy more directly answered Andie's question. "Should we check his back?"

Cuddy had Andie leave and she and House carefully rolled Wilson over. His back was a mass of bruises. "No wonder his back hurt him when he moved," Cuddy concluded.

"It's worse than that. It looks like he may have a cracked vertebra," House said as he looked at Wilson's x-ray.

"Paralysis?" Cuddy asked.

"I think that would have shown itself by now," House stated. "I'm more concerned about chronic pain and limited mobility."

"Damn," Cuddy said. "We'll just have to see what happens."

House didn't think he was wrong. That wasn't unusual. What was unusual was his wanting to be. He had been only a little younger than Wilson when he had the infarction in his leg, and he knew intimately the toll chronic pain took on relationships, friendships and even sanity. It was a demon that still plagued him, and the last thing he wanted was for his best friend to have to wrestle that monster every day.

"I have a meeting at one, care to join me for lunch?" Cuddy asked.

House knew it would feel awkward to be in the cafeteria without Wilson on a workday. "Can we eat in your office?" House asked.

"Okay," Cuddy agreed.

After lunch, House went to work in the clinic, and Cuddy continued with her day. Andie stayed with Wilson, who mostly slept. Andie had relaxed a little knowing that he still recognized her and loved her, but she was still very uneasy not knowing what other problems they were facing.


	74. Chapter 74

A/N: A smidgen of House, no Cuddy, a little bit of Wilson's parents, but mostly Wiles. If that's not your thing, please feel free to skip this chapter.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc. Except OC's**

Wilson's parents arrived at Newark by mid-afternoon. They rented a car and drove to the hotel. They ate an early dinner and arrived at Wilson's room at precisely six that evening.

"We aren't here too early for visiting hours, are we?" Wilson's mother asked as she and her husband entered the room.

Andie had dozed off in her chair. "What?" she mumbled. It took a moment for her to realize who was asking her the question. She jumped up and went to greet them. "Joyce, how are you?" Andie asked, kissing her on the cheek. "Jerry, how was the flight?" She gave him a hug.

"Are you sure we're not too early?" Wilson's mother asked.

Andie was completely confused. "Too early for what? James' pain meds may take a while to wear off, but he'll be waking up again soon."

"Too early for visiting hours," Wilson's father responded. "We don't want to break any rules and cause any trouble."

Andie had to bite her tongue not to remind them that their son almost died and that the last thing they should be thinking about was whether they were violating some arbitrary hospital regulations.

"You realize that your son is a department head here? That he is good friends with the dean of medicine and her husband, who is also another department head?" Andie questioned.

"Well, we don't want any special favors, either," Wilson's father stated.

Andie bit her tongue again. "Please just come in and see him."

One look at Wilson was enough to push the concerns about rule-breaking out of their minds. "My poor baby!" Joyce exclaimed as she saw him. Wilson's father remained silent, but Andie could see how upset he was.

"What the hell happened?" Jerry asked angrily, finally finding his voice.

"James was treating a clinic patient who found out he was Jewish," Andie explained. "The patient was a neo-Nazi and refused treatment and left the clinic. He and two others decided to go after James. They attacked him last Saturday night."

"God, I thought we were finally getting past this kind of thing," Jerry said sadly.

"Unfortunately, there will always be idiots," House proclaimed as he walked into the room. "Although there are about fifteen fewer idiots out there now than there were before."

"Greg," Wilson's mom acknowledged his presence, "How are you?" She went over and gave him a kiss and hugged him, which he returned awkwardly.

Wilson's father put out his hand to House, and when House accepted it, pulled House into a hug. House raised his hand and put it very awkwardly on Jerry's shoulder. It was obvious the embrace couldn't be over fast enough for House.

"Are you saying they caught the people that did this to him?" Joyce asked.

"Yes, and most of their moronic cohorts," House said.

"Well, that's a relief," Wilson's mother responded. "Can you tell us what is going on with James?"

"He seems to have most, if not all, of his higher brain functions intact, which is remarkable given how badly he was beaten." House was oblivious to the impact of his words and continued, not noticing Wilson's parents recoil. "We don't know the extent of the physical damage yet, but there may be some mobility issues and pain."

"What do you mean?" Andie asked. She needed to know what she would be dealing with, day-to-day.

"Well, he's had a lot of back pain, and the x-rays show what looks like a cracked vertebra. Paralysis would probably have presented by now, so it appears he may have just chronic pain and difficulty walking," House stated without emotion.

"Is it _just_ difficulty walking and chronic pain for you?" Andie said angrily.

"No," House said, looking down. "It's sucks. Every day."

"Sorry," Andie said. "I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"Can he do anything to fix it?" Wilson's father asked. "What about surgery?"

"Back surgery is notoriously difficult and outcomes are many times worse than the original condition," House informed them. "Physical therapy is probably the best option."

Wilson began to stir. He opened his eyes and saw Andie and House. Then he saw his parents.

"Sorry," he croaked, "To put you through this."

"This isn't your fault, James," Joyce stated firmly. "I'm sure you'll be okay." It would have been more convincing if she hadn't started to cry.

Andie thought of the oceans of tears she had cried already. She also knew what agony it was to see your child in pain. She immediately went to Wilson's mother and put her arms around her. "Should we leave you alone with him?" Andie asked in a soft whisper.

"Yes," Joyce said quietly.

House and Andie left the room. "I'm going to my office," House growled. Even when he felt relatively well, it was difficult for him to deal with emotions. His best friend was hurt so badly you could hardly recognize him. House had been forced to deal with Wilson's emotional parents. He hadn't seen Rachael and Michael for more than two days. Add in some fatigue and pain from not sleeping in his own bed, and he was of no use to anyone. No wonder he was in such a crappy mood. The elevator stopped on House's floor and he stepped out.

Andie rode the rest of the way down to the ground floor. She took her now all-too-familiar path through the lobby and across the street to her hotel room. She opened the door, went in, and decided to get ready for bed. When she was finished she climbed into bed.

Like the past two nights, she was sure she wouldn't sleep. She missed Catia. She missed her home. She missed either being at her job or finding some quiet spot to work on her book. She missed eating the food she cooked for herself. She missed cooking for family and friends. She missed playing music. And she missed Wilson – his look, his sound, his smell, his taste and his touch. She wanted to tell him that but it never seemed to be the right time. She could feel her pain and frustration levels rising. She fell into a fitful sleep.

Wilson's parents stayed for two more days. They left when they realized, with great sadness, that there was nothing they could do to help their son.

The trickle of visitors who were allowed to see him became a flood after he was moved from intensive care into a private room. Wilson and Andie fell into a routine of sorts. Andie spent her days in Wilson's room, acting almost as a kind of hostess, ushering everyone in and out – hospital staff, his patients and former patients and their families, and even his ex-wives and their significant others.

Wilson felt awkward showing affection in front of all the people he saw, so he wouldn't let Andie near him. By the time he got to the end of each day, after everyone was gone, he was so exhausted he simply fell asleep. Andie would go to her hotel room and sleep restlessly herself. After several days of this, and all the stress of the incident itself, she had reached her limit.

Andie was sitting in Wilson's room, at the end of a particularly long day. They were alone, for once, and Wilson wasn't asleep. "I need to talk to you," Andie stated, out of the blue.

_Oh-oh_ Wilson thought. _This can't possibly be good._ He had noticed that Andie seemed restless, possibly even unhappy with the situation. Who could blame her?

"I've been here for how many days now?" Andie asked. "I'm not even sure myself. I realized I just can't sit here like the dutiful girlfriend at your bedside any more. Since Jake's death, I suck at dutiful, especially in hospitals. I need . . . "

"What?" Wilson asked fearfully. He knew she was leaving him. He certainly understood why she'd want to. She'd been through so much in her life. She needed something, some relationship that was not about hurt, pain or loss. Still, this was going to be excruciating for him. He'd come so close being happy, only to have it snatched away by random events. Just like with Amber. He didn't know if he could pull himself together one more time and keep going.

"I'm sorry," Andie said, looking at him. "This is so damn selfish. It's going to hurt you, but I have to do it."

She stood up. Wilson was certain she was about to turn and walk out the door. She approached the bed. What was this? Maybe she was giving him a good-bye kiss. How pathetic. Wilson's breathing was ragged; he was trying so hard not to cry.

"James, please forgive me for causing you pain," Andie said.

Wilson closed his eyes tightly. He just couldn't bear to watch her leave.

Suddenly he felt the bed dip down, and he felt a warm body next to his. Then he felt arms slide slowly and carefully around him. He opened his eyes to see her face only a few inches from his. She saw pain in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry I'm hurting you," Andie said. "I just needed this so much."

She laid her head gently on his shoulder. Wilson could no longer hold back his tears. They began with a few spilling out on to his cheeks. In a minute or so, they became a flood. Then there were the sobs.

She moved her head away from his shoulder and carefully placed his head on to her shoulder. She began rocking him and singing to him. He didn't know what she was singing. All he could feel were the soothing vibrations traveling from her body into his. Since the assault, everything in his body caused him pain, except now he wasn't aware of it. He was connected to another human being in a way he had always wanted but had never dreamed was possible. He continued to cry, completely overwhelmed by his emotions.

"I'll stop now," Andie whispered, regretting what she thought was the agony she had caused him.

"Don't," Wilson managed to utter.

"What?" she asked. "I'm hurting you."

"You're _not_ hurting me," Wilson managed to say.

"Then why are you crying?" Andie was completely puzzled.

"I thought you were leaving me," Wilson replied quietly.

"What?" Andie asked, totally taken by surprise. "Leaving you?"

"I wouldn't blame you. I'm a mess," Wilson stated. "You deserve to be happy."

"Then I need to stay," Andie said. "And I need to keep you close to me."

"This isn't what you signed up for," Wilson reminded her. "I'm probably never going to be the way I was."

"And, of course, you were perfect before, so I should ask for my money back, and turn you in for a new model, right?" Andie said, half joking and half-serious.

"What?" Wilson asked, confused by what she said.

"You'll have some additional dysfunction, no doubt," Andie stated. "But I'm hoping you'll learn some things from this, too. Nothing that happens to any of us is completely bad or completely good."

"What good came from the death of your son?" Wilson felt like he was being cruel, but even though he was good and spouting them himself, he didn't want to hear any platitudes right now.

"I was forced to face the fact that my marriage was a sham, that my career sucked and that I wanted another child," Andie said. "I wouldn't be here right now, holding the love of my life in my arms if I hadn't been able to see that."

The love of her life. He didn't think he had ever been the love of anyone's life. Even Amber. Wilson found it difficult to wrap his head around that. It seemed she'd be around for him to figure it out. At least for now

"Because of everything that's happened, I may be a jerk in the new few weeks, or months, or years," Wilson informed her. "Promise you'll stay with me anyway."

"I promise," Andie said softly and without hesitation.

"Do you want to get up now?" Wilson asked.

"Do you want me to?" Andie replied with her own question.

"Hell, no!" was Wilson's response. He looked around. "You know that everyone can see us?"

"Yes," Andie stated. "I don't care who does. Then again, I don't work here. Do you want me to get up and close the blinds?"

Wilson hated to lose the contact. "If you hurry back."

Andie did as she was told, also locking the door. Within three minutes, she was back in bed with him.

"Um, you locked the door," Wilson observed with a smile on his face, or at least as much as he could smile with the swelling. "Any expectations?"

"Only the ones prompted by this," Andie said, reaching down to Wilson's obvious erection.

"I can't move very much, so I'm not sure how this is going to work. _If_ this is going to work," Wilson cautioned.

"I'll do everything, and I'll be careful," Andie stated. "You just have to tell me if I'm hurting you."

"I'm hoping the endorphins will help with that," Wilson said.

Andie stood up again and slowly took off her clothes, giving him a little show. She carefully removed his hospital gown. She climbed back in bed.

"Can I touch you?" Andie asked in a tentative voice.

"Try and it see what happens," Wilson responded.

Andie began to lightly caress his chest, back and arms. It wasn't painful at all. In fact, it was heavenly being touched in a non-clinical way. It made Wilson feel loved and wanted.

"I can't touch you back," Wilson pointed out.

"It seems like it's been forever since we did anything," Andie noted. "I'm so horny for you I don't need a lot of encouragement."

Wilson smiled again. He was thrilled by being with a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. The fact that what she wanted was him made it even better. She began to stroke him very gently.

"Not injured there," Wilson murmured, letting her know she could use more pressure. Andie increased both the force and speed of her hand, and used the other hand to fondle his balls. He responded accordingly.

When he reached full height, Andie slipped him inside her. She moved her hips back and forth, since Wilson couldn't thrust very easily.

It had almost seemed like another life since he had felt what it was like to be inside her. He and his body remembered how amazing her walls felt around him. The fit was just right. Wilson assumed by the noises Andie was making that he was hitting her spot. After a few minutes, he got his answer when she climaxed. The feel of her muscles contracting around him, plus all his pent-up need was enough to push him over the edge. The climax traveled through his entire body. It should have hurt, but he was right about the endorphins. It was pure bliss.

Andie was exhausted, but she thought it would probably not be a good idea if anyone came in and found them both naked. She helped a sleepy Wilson get back into his gown. She really didn't have any suitable nightwear for herself since it was all back at the hotel. So, she got up and slipped back into her shirt and panties. She decided it might be a good idea to unlock the door, in case any medical personnel needed to get into the room during the night. They would be found out, but she didn't care. By the time she got back into his bed, he was fast asleep. She gently draped her arm over him and followed him into slumber.


	75. Chapter 75

A/N: Well, here it is, Chapter 75. It feels like a milestone to me, so I guess it's appropriate for the chapter to be about a holiday. Of course, since it's a "House" holiday, it has to have some serious dysfunction. And, in this case, it doesn't involve House's mom, Cuddy's family, or even Wilson's parents! Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own Etc., Except OCs**

Wilson was discharged the following Monday. He would not be practicing medicine for a while, but he would be making appearances at the hospital to see doctors and for physical therapy. His arms and legs were healing fairly quickly. He still had the casts on his hands, so he needed a lot of help, even with basic things like eating, washing up, and going to the bathroom. His back also continued to give him trouble. He was using a wheelchair. He would have probably been able to use a walker, at least for short distances, but the casts prevented that.

Cuddy had made arrangements for nurses to work one shift per day at Andie's house. This allowed Andie to work on her book and to take care of household tasks like cooking and cleaning. Catia also spent more time next door with Rachael.

At first, Wilson was just happy to be home in his own bed, eating Andie's cooking instead of hospital food. Since he wasn't moving around much, he didn't have a huge appetite, but everything she gave him tasted so good, even if he didn't eat much of it.

Time passed and pretty soon Thanksgiving was coming around. Andie usually made a big dinner, even in the years when it had been only Catia and herself. She had been looking forward to cooking for her new "family." Cuddy had insisted, with all the care Wilson required that Andie not cook this year. They compromised and Andie made several side dishes, while Cuddy was responsible for the turkey, dressing, gravy and mashed potatoes. Since Cuddy had even less time than Andie, she went to a restaurant and purchased her portion of the dinner. They even delivered.

It was decided that it would be good for Wilson to get out of the house, so Thanksgiving dinner would be at House and Cuddy's. House had missed being with Wilson, so he hoped they could hang out and watch football. Wilson was okay with doing that, but he wasn't so crazy about eating in front of anyone. It was humiliating enough to have Andie have to feed him when it was in front of Catia. He really didn't want Cuddy, Rachael and, worst of all, House to observe it. Heck, even Michael was able to use his hands for eating now, so Wilson was sure he'd hear something from House, and he dreaded it.

Wilson also tried to make sure he had evacuated everything, so he wouldn't need to use any bathrooms at House and Cuddy's. Without much exercise and some anesthesia lingering in his body, he tended to be constipated, which meant that when he finally had to go to, it wasn't exactly pretty. He still couldn't wipe himself, and he really didn't want to have to call for Andie in the middle of the meal, or at any other time, for that matter.

So, with all those constraints on Wilson's basic bodily functions, to say it wasn't going to be an easy day was an understatement.

They arrived at House and Cuddy's at noon. Andie deposited Wilson in the family room with House while she went back and forth to their house retrieving all the side dishes.

Wilson sat quietly for a few moments and everything seemed to be going okay. Suddenly, Wilson felt something not so pleasant in his lower abdomen. _Dammit_ he thought. _Why did I have that cannellini bean dip before dinner last night?_

Andie was next door, retrieving food, so she couldn't help him. Cuddy was busy in the kitchen, not that Wilson wanted her to see him like this, either. Another wave of extreme discomfort hit Wilson. "House . . . bathroom," Wilson grunted as he nearly doubled over.

House wasn't sure what was going on. He thought maybe Wilson had to puke, and he sure as hell didn't want that on the carpet. So, as best he could, he helped Wilson into his wheelchair and pushed him as fast as his limping leg would allow, into the bathroom.

Once they arrived, House realized that Wilson wasn't sick to his stomach. House also realized that with the casts on his hands, Wilson wasn't able to get his pants down. _Shit_ he thought, biting his tongue not to embarrass his friend.

House decided that dwelling on the situation would only make things worse. He quickly unzipped Wilson's pants and pulled them and Wilson's boxers down. As best he could, he eased Wilson on to the toilet. "I'll be right outside," House mumbled as he left Wilson to do his business.

House knew what would be coming next, and it filled him with trepidation. He kept hoping to see Andie and get her into the bathroom to, um, take care of things, but she had apparently disappeared next door.

House heard Wilson calling out for assistance. He decided he should just get it over with.

He pushed through the bathroom door. Wilson sat on the toilet with his pants around his ankles. "Where the hell is Andie?" Wilson asked both angrily and fearfully.

"Not around," House replied, studying the bathroom floor intently. "I can help you out."

"No way!" Wilson practically shouted.

"What's your problem?" House questioned.

"There is no way you are touching . . . anything," Wilson replied. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Why the hell not?" House asked. All he had wanted was a quiet day with a friend he missed, and it had turned into this -- whatever this was. It really ticked him off that Wilson had felt no compunction about invading House's personal space again and again, but, all of a sudden, Wilson was going to turn all modest on him?

"And don't you dare give me any bullshit about privacy," House continued angrily. "You did bathroom duty with me after the infarction. You arranged to get me a masseuse when I was de-toxing. You saw me on the floor of my apartment, choking on my own vomit. You made me beg for meds when I hadn't peed in two days, and you knew I had to cath myself. You saw me wet myself after I was electrocuted. You were there when I had a heart attack on a bus. You saw me cut up my foot during a DBS and be unable to do the simplest things afterward, like speak. You saw me unconscious when I was using methadone. You were the one who found me when I was in an insulin coma. You saw me hallucinating and delusional. You drove me to the damn looney bin! Don't you pretend you're better than me because you don't want help wiping your ass!"

Wilson looked down, trying to hide that his eyes were filling up and salvage what little was left of his dignity. "I'm not better than you," he choked out. "I'm worse. At least you chose most of those things. I'm just a victim. A weak, helpless, useless victim."

"You stupid son of a bitch!" House exclaimed. "Some idiots decide to target you, and you're to blame! Get over yourself! This may come as a shock to you, but the universe doesn't revolve around James Wilson. Sometimes, shit just happens. You aren't omnipotent and you can't control everything. It's scary and life sucks!"

While House was ranting at Wilson, he had cleaned him up, gotten him dressed, and helped him back in the wheelchair. House had flushed and washed his hands in the bathroom sink.

"Let's just go watch some football and wait for dinner," House said.

Wilson was completely humiliated. Andie had just put the last of the side dishes in the kitchen. She saw House wheeling Wilson out of the bathroom.

"Everything okay?" Andie asked.

"Take me home," Wilson said.

"What happened?" Andie said.

"Mister Uber-Caretaker needed a little help in the there," House replied, indicating the bathroom with a nod of his head. "I guess he can't handle being on the receiving end."

Wilson could feel tears of frustration and self-pity building in his eyes. The last thing he wanted was for House to see him cry.

"I said get me the hell home!" Wilson shouted.

Both Andie and House could see Wilson was about at his breaking point. "I'll call Lisa and let her know about what's going on with dinner," Andie informed House as she got Wilson out the front door. She could hear Wilson taking deep breaths as she maneuvered him down House and Cuddy's driveway toward her own. He was trying with everything he had in him not to cry. They just about made it into her house when Wilson lost it. The tears began streaming down his face and he started choking out sobs.

Andie didn't know if she should attempt to comfort him, or, since these tears were caused by humiliation, if he wanted to be left alone for a while.

"God dammit!" Wilson growled. "I can't even wipe off my own stupid, fucking tears!"

Andie rolled him into the kitchen and got a paper towel. She put warm water on it and tentatively began wiping his face. She wondered if he would push her hands away, but he didn't.

She had no idea what to say to him. She knew things would be better eventually. He was due to get the casts off in three weeks, and that would be a vast improvement over his present condition. He was also walking at least a little, and she was sure that would improve. Right now, she thought he didn't want to be reminded of that. It would only seem like mocking his current situation. So, she did the only thing she could think of and attempted to hug him. At least he didn't push her away.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes. Wilson had finally stopped crying. "I told you I was going to be a jerk about this."

Andie thought about making some witty comeback, but nothing came to her. She simply cupped Wilson's cheek in one hand and kissed him on the other. She rested her cheek against his. "I love you so much."

"I don't deserve you," Wilson responded.

"Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just because my damage isn't visible, it doesn't make me any better than you."

"You seem to cope pretty well," Wilson stated.

"Well, you haven't been through the holidays with me yet," Andie responded.

"What?" Wilson asked, perplexed and also relieved that they weren't talking about his dysfunction for the time being.

"Jake died two days before Christmas," Andie explained. "Everyone's supposed to be so happy for the holidays, and I do try to do things to make it special for Catia, but it just hurts so damn much."

"I'd offer to help, but . . . " Wilson's voice trailed off as he raised his hands.

"Even without . . . that," she said, pointing to his hands, "You're a Jew. Don't tell me you have Christmas family traditions."

"Um, I've got a reindeer hat," Wilson offered tentatively.

Andie smiled.

"What?" Wilson asked.

"I just pictured my Christmas present," Andie said, smiling even more. "You in your reindeer hat. And nothing else."

"Except a swastika," Wilson added. He felt depressed again.

"I was thinking of hanging ornaments a little farther south, actually," Andie told him.

"Wanna practice now?" Wilson asked, his mood improving from the visual.

"Let me call Lisa first." She dialed next door. "Lisa, I'm not sure James is in the mood to celebrate today."

Wilson heard Cuddy respond. Andie continued, "Well, he doesn't really like people watching when he's being fed . . . yes, I know it's only immediate family, but, still . . . thanks for understanding . . . if Catia could stay there for dinner and a while after that, it would be great . . . yeah, I'll come over and get some food for us in a while . . . thanks again . . . yeah, I'll tell him . . . bye."

"Tell me what?" Wilson asked.

"Not to feel badly about not being able to come to dinner," Andie answered. "And that they love you."

Wilson snorted. "Yeah, I can imagine House saying that."

"Greg was shouting in the background," Andie ventured. "Something about you ending your pity party and getting your ass over there . . ."

"That sounds a lot more like how House would tell me he _loves_ me." Wilson stated.

"Speaking of _lurve_ . . . " Andie said with a wicked smile. She wheeled Wilson toward the bedroom.

After they were finished, they cuddled for a while. Andie got up, got dressed and went over to House and Cuddy's to retrieve some food. Wilson was glad no one saw him as Andie fed him. Since Catia wasn't there, she tried to make it was sensuous as possible, using her fingers whenever could, dripping food from the spoon into his mouth and dipping various parts of herself in the sauces and gravy and letting him lick them off.

They wound up in the bedroom a second time. They talked as they lay in bed after.

"This wasn't as bad a Thanksgiving as I thought it was going to be," Wilson admitted. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," Andie said. "One down, three to go."

"What?" Wilson asked.

"We're through Thanksgiving," Andie noted, "Now we just have to get through Hanukkah, Christmas and New Year's."

"It's not going to be that bad, is it?" Wilson asked.

"Once you get the casts off your hands, it should be a lot easier," Andie admitted. "And I'll try not to dump all my emotional trauma on you."

"Don't push me away, okay?" Wilson asked, kissing her on the forehead.

"Okay," She responded. "I have to go get Catia."

Andie went next door. She collected some leftovers for the next few days and brought Catia back home.

Andie put the food away and got Catia ready for bed. She came into their bedroom to say goodnight to Wilson. She climbed into bed next to him.

"I'm sorry you weren't feeling well today," Catia told him. "I missed you."

"I apologize, sweetie," Wilson responded.

There was a pause. "Aunt Lisa said you were embarrassed about not being able to eat without help. You know, when I was a baby, I couldn't eat by myself, either." Catia stated, trying to be helpful. "I wasn't embarrassed, and you shouldn't be, either."

Wilson smiled at her advice. "I'll try to remember that." They hugged each other and she got up and went to her room to go to bed.

Andie came in and got undressed. She slipped into bed.

"I do love that kid," Wilson said.

"Me, too," Andie said. "I told you she kept me alive. And that was even before she could speak."

"I want more . . . permanence with her," Wilson said.

"Like what?" Andie asked.

"I live here. I help take care of her, or at least I used to, and I think I will again. I want to be made her guardian." Wilson waited to see how his words would land.

"I'd like that," Andie whispered, her voice full of emotion. "I think she'd like that, too."

"Since I can't write or type very well, I'll need your help with the paperwork," Wilson said.

"I've got my first draft into the publisher, and I have to meet with him in two weeks in New York, but I should have some time until then," Andie stated.

"Good," Wilson responded. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm kind of tired, so can we go to sleep now?"

"I'll set the alarm for early tomorrow," Andie said with a smile.


	76. Chapter 76

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc., Except OCs**

In the next two weeks, Andie helped Wilson with the paperwork required to make him Catia's guardian and had it filed. She was also exhausted. She had expected to be tired, but not like this. Every day was a struggle to get out of bed, and to get the simplest things done. She had even asked Cuddy for the name of her cleaning service, which was always something she had done herself.

She wondered what could be wrong. She knew it took a lot out of her to take care of Wilson, but she didn't think it was that bad. Had she neglected to eat properly? She didn't think so, but she certainly had less time to cook than she had before. Maybe she was anemic. She talked to Cuddy, who recommended blood work. Andie went one morning to have it done at the hospital, telling Wilson she was going shopping so he wouldn't worry.

She told Wilson she had a dentist appointment the day she went to the hospital to get the results. She was completely shocked. She had thought she was just tired.

Shortly after, the day came when she had to meet with her publisher. She decided to tell Wilson she was going to have lunch in New York. In fact, she was going to New York for the meeting, but she had asked Cuddy and House to meet her in Princeton for lunch to discuss her test results.

They met in a small Greek restaurant near the university campus. Cuddy and House were waiting for her.

"Sorry I'm late, but the trains were packed." Andie stated. "I'm tired and I really needed to wait for a train with some space for me to sit down."

"Don't worry about it," Cuddy said with concern in her voice. "There are a couple of ways we can deal with this, but we have to know what you want to do. Have you talked to Wilson?"

"Not yet," Andie admitted. "Both of you have known him longer than I have, and I wanted to get your opinions before I said anything to him. How do you think he'll react?"

"I'm not sure," Cuddy said. "It seems like it's a surprise to you."

"I have another question," House asked. "How the hell did this happen? I mean, you're supposedly two highly educated adults. There's this invention . . . maybe you've heard of it . . . it's called _birth control_."

"Well," Andie said, "It's never been an issue before."

"What?" Cuddy asked. "You had your son, right?"

"He was an IVF baby," Andie told them. "They spend a lot of time when you are doing treatments emphasizing that you are an infertile couple, so no one feels guilty. Well, when my ex got his girlfriend knocked up, I came to the conclusion that it was me who had the fertility problem. I mean, who wouldn't? James and I did use condoms when we first starting seeing each other, but I switched to the pill after we knew there was no disease risk. I wasn't exactly scrupulous about it before he was attacked and things got kind of chaotic after. I'm that much older now, so, with my history, I was convinced I didn't need to be super-careful about it. I guess I was wrong."

"Things got 'chaotic' after the attack?" House asked in a mocking tone. "You mean you both got horny, don't you?"

"House!" Cuddy said, both upset at House's sarcasm, and afraid, knowing Andie, that she'd get more information about Wilson's sex life than she ever wanted to know.

"Not much more than we were before," Andie said.

"Didn't you do it in his hospital bed?" House asked.

"I don't need to know this," Cuddy interjected, although the sheepish look on Andie's face gave Cuddy the answer.

"You're both home all day and your daughter is at school," House stated. "Plenty of time for hanky-panky."

"Except that the nurse is there most of that time," Andie said in her defense.

"Funny, when I talked to one of them at the hospital, she said you always insisted she take a two-hour lunch," House countered.

This time, Andie had no comeback.

"See," House said to Cuddy, "Hornier than a couple of teenagers in the back seat of a car."

"Okay!" Cuddy exclaimed, holding up her hands, "I don't want to hear any more about this."

"Spoilsport," House huffed at Cuddy. "So, other than establishing your culpability, why are we here?"

"I need your advice," Andie said vaguely.

"I can suggest a good obstetrician at the hospital," Cuddy said. She looked carefully at Andie and saw uncertainty. "Are you considering terminating the pregnancy?"

"I don't want to," Andie said. "My life hasn't exactly been full good surprises. But, I can't lose James, either. Do you think this is something that will make him leave me?"

"I'm sure he'll be shocked," Cuddy stated. She knew Wilson pretty well, but the attack had changed him. She wasn't completely positive how he would take news the now. She felt uncomfortable trying to guess what he would say or do.

Of course, House wasn't. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked. "He'll crap in his pants, and then he'll cry like a girl because he's so happy. Just make sure you don't break the news in front of me, or I might vomit."

"Thanks," Andie said, "For both of your perspectives."

"Whatever you decide to do," Cuddy told her, "I'll help you at the hospital any way I can."

"Thanks, Lisa," Andie responded. She knew she had to talk to Wilson before she did anything else.

"Can we eat now?" House whined. He had found a couple of unhealthy things on the menu and he was ready to order.

Andie and Cuddy made small talk and picked at their salads during lunch while House ate.

House and Cuddy returned to the hospital and Andie went home to talk to Wilson.

After Catia got off the school bus, Andie sent her next door and waited for the nurse's shift to be over before she spoke with Wilson.

"I've been kind of tired lately," Andie began.

"Taking care of me isn't easy," Wilson acknowledged. "But I'll get my casts off at the end of the week, so it should be a little less difficult."

"It's not you," Andie countered. "It's me."

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked, fear seeping in his voice for the first time.

"Well," Andie sighed. She'd thought very carefully about every possible reaction he might have. She'd asked the two people who knew him best how he might react. At this point, she might as well just say it and try to gauge his response. "James, I'm pregnant."

Wilson's first feeling was relief that she wasn't sick. Hs second feeling was to wonder what the hell was going on. "I thought you were on the pill."

_Damn_, Andie thought, _if he feels tricked into this, it won't work._ "I wasn't as careful as I should have been." She reminded him about the IVF and that she was older now, hence even more likely to be infertile. He seemed to accept that explanation. She was still trying to figure out how he felt about the pregnancy itself.

"What do you plan on doing?" he asked carefully. He knew what he wanted, but he didn't want to force his feelings on her.

Andie didn't want to tip her hand, but she realized they would just continue dancing around each other if one of them didn't say something. "Most of the unexpected things in my life have been pretty crappy," she began. "It's good to have something unexpected that makes me happy. What I'm trying to say is that if it were up to just me, I'd keep the baby."

"How is it not up to just you?" Wilson asked. He had always prided himself on being a sensitive, modern man who respected the women around him as equals. "It's your body, so it's your choice."

"James," Andie said in frustration. "This isn't some theoretical discussion of a woman's right to choose, this is me. Or, even more accurately, _us_. As much as I want another child, I just can't lose you because you don't want this."

_Damn, how does she do that?_ Wilson thought. _She's telling me she's considering aborting my child, and she still makes me feel loved. I have to be completely honest with her._ "This is such a shock to me. I mean, I'd pretty much given up on the idea of ever being a father."

Andie was surprised. "You have to know that you'll be a good father. Catia loves you. You're fantastic with Rachael and Michael. Even your young cancer patients look up to you."

"Not that so much as . . . " Wilson struggled for words, "Resigning myself to the fact that even if I wanted it, it wasn't going to happen for me."

"Why not?" Andie asked.

"Well, none of my wives wanted to have a child with me," he replied. "I don't think Amber would have wanted it, either."

"So," Andie said, "Up until now you've been with women who didn't want kids."

"Or didn't want kids with me," Wilson stated sadly.

"That's just ridiculous," Andie scoffed. "What woman who wanted kids wouldn't want to have your child? You're intelligent, kind and sexy as hell."

"Well, no one has exactly been beating down my door to be their sperm donor," Wilson observed.

"I can't understand why. I can hardly wait to have another pair of brown eyes looking back at me. And I bet he or she will have an adorable thatch of floppy brown hair," Andie smiled at the image in her mind. "But you never actually told me, do you want this?"

Wilson loved her directness. "Just like the way I want you. With every part of me."

"James," Andie's voice was barely above a whisper. "I love you so much."

"You know, you say that a lot," Wilson teased. "Show me."

"My showing you was how we got in this situation in the first place," Andie countered as she rose from the couch.

He leaned on her as they carefully walked to the bedroom. She removed his clothes and helped him on to the bed. She slowly removed her clothes. Without thinking, she looked down and put her hand on her abdomen. When she looked up, Wilson was smiling at her. She lay down next to him on the bed and began to softly kiss his face. The bruises were almost healed, and the plastic surgeon had done a very good job with the stitches. It would take a while for the scars to fade, but they would be almost imperceptible when they did.

She moved down his neck, kissing and licking, hearing him moan with pleasure as she did so. She went on to his shoulders. Even with the remaining effects of the attack, they were still the most amazing combination of strong and soft that she had ever encountered. His chest was no longer wrapped because his ribs had healed, but she wanted to be gentle in case there was any lingering pain.

Finally, she reached the scar on his belly. Wilson looked away, in anger or shame she couldn't tell. She kissed softly over the disfigured flesh, neither tracing the marks nor avoiding them. She looked at him again and his eyes were shining. She hoped she made him feel at least a little better about the scar. It would always be a reminder of what happened to him, but now she hoped he would see that what had occurred had led to their child, too. Like she had said to him, nothing that happens is totally good or totally bad.

She traveled down the front of his legs. They had healed remarkably well, and had very little bruising left. She reached his feet. She had become so familiar with them when he was in the hospital those first couple of days when she couldn't hold his hands. As she kissed them gently, she felt tears forming in her eyes. They slipped down her cheeks on to his toes.

"Why are you crying?" Wilson asked softly.

"This reminds of . . . those first days . . . in the hospital . . . " Andie stuttered through her tears, "I was so afraid . . . I'd lose you."

Even though Wilson couldn't pull her up, he opened his arms and she traveled back up the bed to him. They embraced. Andie could feel Wilson's erection against her abdomen. She moved so that he was sliding along her channel. He had regained enough strength that he could do some things for himself. He thrust deep inside her, finding just the right spot.

"More," she moaned, as her eyes rolled back. Wilson continued to thrust. She kept saying his name as she got closer to her orgasm. As she went over the edge, the vibration in her body took Wilson with her.

After, they were lying together. Wilson had his head on her chest. He couldn't wait to be able to touch and caress her again. Another thought occurred to him. "I've never made love to a pregnant woman before."

"Well, you'd better get used to it," Andie said. "It's not like I'm going to be celibate for the next six and a half months."

"Are you going to see a doctor?" Wilson asked.

"Lisa recommended Doctor Zimmerman," Andie replied.

"Rhonda was Cuddy's OB/GYN when she was pregnant for Michael," Wilson noted. "She specializes in pregnancies in women over thirty-five."

"Nice to be reminded of my age," Andie said.

"Better to be taken care of by someone who knows what she's doing," Wilson responded.

"Point taken," Andie smiled. "I'll make an appointment tomorrow."


	77. Chapter 77

A/N: I've had a review pointing out that this is a Huddy fic, and saying that I'm spending too much time on Wiles. I do understand why he/she would feel that way. I have this and one more mostly Wiles-centered chapter, and then it's Christmas and I plan on move the focus back to our favorite couple. So, hang in there!

Oh, and I think another review remarked that Andie was clueless about being pregnant. The reason is because her first child was an IVF baby, which many times has a very different set of symptoms associated with early pregnancy than a "traditional" pregnancy. I suppose I should have worked that fact into the story somehow, but I just couldn't seem to without disrupting the flow of dialog or events.

And one more thing: After seeing last night's season premiere, with Hugh Laurie's phemoninal performance, I can only conclude that Emmy voters are blithering idiots!!

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don Own, Etc., Except OCs**

With Cuddy's help, Andie was able to schedule an appointment with Doctor Zimmerman on the same day that Wilson had his casts removed.

"How far along do you think you are?" Rhonda asked, looking at Andie's chart.

She and Wilson smiled at each other and held hands for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. He still didn't have anything like what would pass for dexterity, but he had most of his gross motor skills intact.

"I'm guessing about six weeks, but I could be wrong," Andie answered.

"Given your hormone levels, I think you might actually be farther along than that," Zimmerman said, examining the chart. "I'm going to schedule an ultrasound so we can see what's going on."

It turned out there was an opening mid-afternoon that same day. Andie wasn't sure if it was because the father of her child was the head of oncology, or her best friend was dean of medicine, or if there actually was a cancellation, but she decided she would take it.

Wilson still wasn't sure how his hands would work, so he didn't want to eat in the cafeteria. They had lunch with House and Cuddy in a conference room on the sixth floor.

"How's the stud muffin?" House inquired as he grabbed his reuben and chips from the delivery bag Cuddy had brought up.

"Cast free," Wilson answered, holding up his now-liberated hands.

"I was referring to that physical therapist who just walked by," House clarified. "Sven has the pick of the nurses, I understand."

"He's rather smitten with Reynaldo," Wilson said, watching House's envy at Wilson being able to keep up with hospital news even without being there most of the time.

"Welcome to the ladies' gossip club," Cuddy said to Andie.

"As long as neither of them is actually interested in either Sven or Reynaldo, I don't care," Andie responded with a smile.

"Did you see Rhonda this morning?" Cuddy asked. Both Wilson and Andie nodded in the affirmative. "Is everything okay?"

"She said that my hormone levels were a little high for what we assume is six weeks into the pregnancy," Andie replied. "So she's giving me an ultrasound this afternoon to see if I miscalculated and I'm actually farther along."

House shot Cuddy a glance that Cuddy hoped Wilson and Andie didn't notice. When there were no comments, Cuddy said, "Keep us posted, okay?"

"Cuddy The Administrator needs at least five months to plan the baby shower," House said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"We'll let you know what happens," Andie replied, smiling at what House had said.

After lunch, Andie and Wilson headed down for their appointment.

As Cuddy threw away the trash, House sat thoughtfully bouncing his cane.

"What?" Cuddy asked.

"The timeline only makes sense if Andie is correct about when conception took place," House replied.

"So why do you think she has higher than normal hormone levels?" Cuddy asked. "It isn't cancer, is it?"

"Nope," House stated flatly.

"Well, then what?" Cuddy asked in frustration.

"Twins," House pronounced, as though it were completely obvious.

"I've got a meeting for the next two hours, so text me when you find out," Cuddy said.

"What makes you think _I_'ll find out?" House asked.

"It's Wilson, _duh_," Cuddy answered in her best tween voice as she left the room.

House smiled slightly as he limped out and went to the clinic.

* * *

Andie had zipped opened her pants and pushed up her top, and was lying on the table in the exam room, with Wilson sitting on a stool next to her as Zimmerman entered the room.

"Hi, guys," Zimmerman said. "Let's see what's going on here."

She squirted the gel on Andie's belly, applied the wand, and started looking at the screen. She had decided to turn it away from them, just because she didn't want Wilson jumping to conclusions and telling Andie things that might turn out to be inaccurate.

She was quiet for a while as she looked at various views, measured and recorded what she saw. The only noise in the room was the sound the ball made as she moved it around, the clicking of the machine as she took images, and the printer whirring as the images came out.

"Well?" Wilson questioned anxiously.

"Your hormone levels are higher than they normally would be at six weeks," Zimmerman stated. "Here's why." She turned the ultrasound screen in their direction. The color drained from Wilson's face as he looked at it.

"What?" Andie asked, trying to figure out what she was looking at, other than some grainy images.

"Twins," Wilson was finally able to utter.

"Here's one amniotic sac," Rhonda said as she indicated it on the screen, "And here's the other."

Now it was Andie's turn to lose the color in her face. For perhaps the first time in her life, she was speechless.

Rhonda was aware of their shock. She had seen many parents' surprise at finding out they had multiples due. She knew from past experience to wait a few minutes for them to process things a little. Finally, she spoke.

"Your age plus the fact that you're having twins automatically means we classify this as a high-risk pregnancy," Rhonda informed them. "That doesn't mean you'll necessarily have any problems, but it does mean we'll keep a closer eye on things. So, you'll be spending a lot of time visiting my office."

"Could we have a couple of minutes alone?" Wilson asked.

"We're done here, anyway," Rhonda said. She gave Andie some tissues to wipe herself.

"Here's one of the pictures," she handed it to Wilson and he began studying it closely.

"Make sure you see my assistant and make an appointment for next week," Zimmerman said as she left.

Andie wiped her abdomen and went into the bathroom to get rid of the water she drank for the test. When she came out, Wilson was still looking at the picture.

"Wanna see?" he asked her. She went over and looked. The images were still grainy, but the two sacs were visible.

"You're so quiet," Wilson said. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm just stunned," Andie answered honestly. "I never thought I could even get pregnant without massive technological intervention, and now I find out I'm having twins. It's just so strange for me to have sex and actually have a baby, two babies, result from it. Those kind of amazing things happen to other people, not me."

"So, you're happy about this, then?" Wilson asked, just trying to make sure he understood her reaction.

"Are you kidding?" Andie responded with a question of her own. "I'm pregnant with twins and madly in love with their father. I don't think it gets any better than this."

"I love you, too," Wilson said as his cell phone began to ring.

"Tell House he won the bet," Andie stated, recognizing the ringtone. "Maybe you can get him to pay for your lunch for a change."

"Not a chance," Wilson said as he answered his phone. "Yes, House, it is twins. Yes, you can collect from Foreman and Taub. No, Andie's not running around the exam room screaming in terror. Yes, she's okay with me being the father. I _am_ too the father, House. We are not doing a DNA test so you can win a bet with Chase. _How_ _much_? Will you split it? Okay, maybe after they're born."

Andie was rolling her eyes. "Gotta go. See ya later," Wilson said as he hung up.

"Nice to see that Greg considers our children an opportunity to enrich his own children's college fund," Andie stated flatly.

"Nah," Wilson said. "Anything he makes on bets here at the hospital goes for OTB."

"Is there any vice that man won't indulge in?" Andie asked, with wonder rather than condemnation.

"Well, he gave up the hookers when he and Cuddy got together," Wilson recalled.

Andie just shook her head.


	78. Chapter 78

A/N: There is some Wiles at the beginning of this chapter, but, as promised, I do wind up with Huddy. As always, thanks for the reviews, favorities and alerts.

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc., Except OCs**

Hanukkah came and went with little fanfare, other than the two houses in the neighborhood that didn't put on their Christmas lights for eight days. Rachael, Catia and Michael received a small present each night. Andie busied herself making latkes and House busied himself eating them.

It was two days before Christmas. It was also the anniversary of Jake's death. Wilson wanted more than anything to make this day the least painful for Andie as he possibly could, but he didn't know how to do it.

He had started to return to work part-time and he was called in on one of House's cases. He was so busy interpreting the battery of tests House had put his hapless patient through that he almost forgot about Andie's difficulties. She called him at around four in the afternoon. "Can I see you when it gets dark?" she asked him.

"I can't leave right now," Wilson told her with frustration. "Can you come here?"

Andie sent Catia next door and left. She really didn't want to spend what was left of this awful day at a hospital, but she wanted, no, needed, to see Wilson and that was where he was.

When she arrived, she went past any patient rooms and headed for the fourth floor. Wilson wasn't in his office, so she went to House's office. No one was there, either, but House's team was in his conference room. Andie entered the room tentatively. She told them she was looking for Wilson.

They told her House and Wilson would be there shortly and offered her a seat. Apparently, they had solved the case and were elated to have a few days off.

Foreman had learned at least a few observational skills from House in all the years he had worked for him. "You seem a little down."

"The holidays are tough for me," Andie admitted.

"Why?" Taub inquired, more out of curiosity than concern.

"Today is the anniversary of my son's death," Andie answered, not seeing any reason to hold back.

"Sorry," Taub stated.

"Pardon my curiosity," Foreman began, "But this was many years ago, wasn't it?" When Andie nodded in the affirmative, he continued. "Many people seem to be able to come to some kind of terms with their loved one's death over time, why not you?"

House and Wilson had entered the room behind her and she seemed unaware of them as she formulated her answer. "It wasn't so much his death as the way he died."

"What do you mean?" Foreman continued. By now, Wilson was looking daggers at him, but Foreman, in his detached puzzle-solving mode, seemed oblivious.

"He had bone cancer, and he died in a hospital," Andie responded. "After a while, it wasn't even the cancer. It was the pain. He was in agony, and they wouldn't help us."

"What did they do?" Foreman asked, still trying to figure out what happened.

"They refused to give him anything besides a 'regular dose' for the pain," Andie replied, her chest heaving and her voice beginning to break. "Do you have any idea what it's like to watch your child thrash around in agony, pleading for you to help him, and nothing you do, even begging, gets any pain relief for him? It's the most helpless, powerless, hopeless feeling you can imagine . . . It's nothing I'd wish on the worst person who ever walked the planet . . . " she was crying as Wilson came in back of her and put his arms around her. She turned and put her face in his abdomen as the crying escalated to sobbing.

Wilson glared at Foreman, who, finally realizing what he had said, mumbled an apology. House dismissed his team with a nod of his head and went into his office to leave Wilson and Andie alone.

Andie stopped crying after a few minutes. "I'm sorry about all that," she said as she accepted the tissues Wilson was giving her. Wilson sat down in the chair next to her and moved it closer.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Wilson said as he cupped her cheek with his hand and gently brought her head to him so it rested on his shoulder. "I wish I could have spent more time with you today." He leaned in to plant a few soft kisses on her forehead.

"No point in both of us being miserable," Andie pointed out. "And you were here when I needed you the most."

Wilson made it down to her lips and they joined together in a soft, slow kiss.

"We should go home." Wilson stated. "I'm going to my office to get my stuff."

In the meantime, House had collected his things and was ready to leave. He had been giving Wilson rides when their schedules coincided because Wilson didn't quite trust his hands to drive yet. Andie had taken a taxi to the hospital, too upset to drive and not really thinking about how she would get home. Even though it was not a long trip, House was sure it would be uncomfortable, mainly because of his generic discomfort with strong emotions. He didn't really have any choice but to take both of them home, so he went into the conference room, bracing himself for who knew what.

"Foreman's an idiot," House proclaimed as he sat down at the conference table.

"He's just inquisitive," Andie responded. "He wouldn't be an effective employee of yours if he didn't have curiosity. And detachment."

"Is that just a nice way of saying he's an insensitive jerk?" House asked.

Andie smiled. "I guess."

"You don't seem upset that he asked you those questions," House observed. "Come to think of it, you never seem to react negatively to what I say, either. And I can out-insensitive-jerk Foreman on even a bad day."

"Are you ever going to say anything worse to me than, 'your son has cancer,' or 'there's nothing more we can do for him,' or, 'I'm sorry, we can't give him any more pain medication'?" Andie asked rhetorically. "Whatever you say couldn't possibly come close."

House looked down, recognizing that if he heard any of those things and they were referring to Cuddy, Rachael or Michael, he would be pretty much immune to the effects of any other words spoken to him after that. "They wouldn't give him any more pain meds, huh?" House asked.

"No," Andie said.

"I can empathize," House sighed as his hand automatically went to his leg.

"They kept telling me it wasn't that bad," Andie stated angrily. "No offense to your profession, but doctors can be such arrogant bastards sometimes."

"None taken," House said. "I had a similar experience. No one ever believed how much my leg hurt."

"No one should presume to understand another person's pain," Andie observed quietly, looking down at the conference table.

House studied her intently. There were very few people he respected. She had just moved herself near the top of a very short list.

House and Andie had been so deep in their conversation, they hadn't noticed Wilson enter the conference room.

"Ready to go?" Wilson asked them.

"How long have you been lurking and eavesdropping?" House asked.

"I've been here a while," Wilson admitted.

"Learn anything?" House asked sarcastically.

"Just why you're my best friend and why she's the love of my life," Wilson answered quietly.

"Oh, please," House whined. "Let's get out of here."

Andie, Wilson and House headed out the door. On the first floor, Wilson and Andie waited while House stopped at Cuddy's office. Wilson laced his fingers through Andie's when he saw House give Cuddy a rather lengthy, intense kiss.

A small smile played across Wilson's lips as he imagined the goings on in both households once children were asleep. He leaned in to give Andie a series of small, soft kisses.

House emerged from Cuddy's office with Cuddy in tow. They headed the short distance to the parking lot. House made sure he didn't use the parking garage any day there was a possibility that Wilson would either come in or leave with him.

House wasn't the comforting type, so this was about as much as he could do for his friend. He wasn't even sure Wilson was aware of it, but it didn't matter. Like most good things he did in his life, it wasn't about getting the approval or winning the affection of others. He did it because it was right to spare his friend unnecessary pain.

As House pulled into their garage, it was just starting to snow a little. "They're predicting some significant snowfall for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day," Andie noted, looking at the cloud-filled December night sky.

They entered the house and sent Daniela home immediately. She wished everyone a "Feliz Navidad" and left.

"Christmas Eve dinner is at six tomorrow night, and Christmas dinner is at four the day after," Andie reminded them as she, Catia and Wilson headed next door.

Daniela had made dinner, and Rachael and Michael had already eaten. House planted himself on the couch in the family room and began flipping through the channels. Rachael came out to say goodnight. House hugged and kissed her a little longer than he usually would because he remembered what Andie had said about her son, although he told himself it was just because he wanted to.

Cuddy had gotten Michael ready for bed and brought him to House while she went in to read Rachael a bedtime story.

Michael seemed wide awake, which, House had noticed, never led to anything good at this time of night. So, he placed Michael's head in the crook of his arm and began rocking him and singing to him. After just a few minutes, feeling completely safe and secure in his father's strong arms, snuggling against the vibrations of House's deep and soothing baritone, Michael fell into a contented sleep. House got up carefully and limped into Michael's room. "Good night, buddy," House said softly as he kissed Michael once, okay, twice, or, maybe, three times and put him in his crib. Again, he told himself, just because he wanted to.

House left the room and headed for the kitchen, looking for a little something before bed. There was leftover macaroni and cheese on the stove. _A woman born and raised in Guatemala knowing how to make soul food. Only in America_, House thought. Then again, it was good and he was hungry, so he got himself a dish, served it up and started to eat.

Cuddy came into the kitchen and retrieved some items for a salad from the vegetable crisper.

"Sure you don't want some of this?" House mumbled through a mouth full of food, raising his plate toward her to show her what it was.

"It looks good," Cuddy stated. "I'll have a little after I eat my salad."

"Andie looked pretty bad tonight," Cuddy observed. "I hope she's not getting sick."

"Don't think that's why she looked bad," House said as he chewed.

"The babies are okay, aren't they?" Cuddy asked with concern.

"For some reason, her Ob/Gyn won't share that with me," House stated sarcastically. "Some silly rule about patient confidentiality. But, since Wilson hasn't coming crying to me like a girl, I assume everything is okay."

"Then what is going on with her?" Cuddy questioned

"Today is the anniversary of her son's death," House said so quietly Cuddy almost didn't hear him.

"Poor thing. How does she deal with it at all? If anything happened to Rachael or Michael, I don't know if I could . . . " Cuddy's voice trailed off.

"Me either," House said, looking down at his plate.

They ate what was left of their meal in silence. They put their dishes in the dishwasher and headed to the bedroom.

The phone rang. House scowled at Cuddy as she went to answer it. "Hello, Daniela. Yes, I'm glad to hear it. Really? Well, we're going to stay in, so we hope we won't have to deal with that for the next couple of days. Thanks for the call. Merry Christmas to you, too."

"What?" House questioned.

"Since it was starting to snow, I asked her to call me when she got home," Cuddy stated.

"Doesn't she already have a mother in Guatemala?" House snarked.

"Forgive me for being concerned about the woman that takes care of our children," Cuddy responded. "She said it's starting to snow pretty heavily and the roads are getting bad."

"I've had a quite a few fantasies about us being snowbound, Cuddy," House stated, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Why don't you tell me all about them?" Cuddy smiled.

"Well, one involves you out in the snow with no coat, getting wet and cold, with your nipples on full display through your top," House began.

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"Wait, it gets better," House told her. "I find you, carry you in . . . it's my fantasy, so I don't have to be a cripple, okay?"

Cuddy sighed. How many times did she need to insist that she didn't see him as crippled? But she saw he was in a good mood, so she didn't want to ruin in by challenging him. "Go ahead."

"Well, I strip you out of your wet clothes," House said. "My clothes are wet, too, so, I strip out of them. It starts to get cold, and the only way we have to keep warm is to get in bed together. Body friction makes things heat up . . . "

While House had been providing this very interesting narrative, both he and Cuddy had actually stripped and got into bed.

"You mean like this?" Cuddy asked as she slid her pussy lips over his erection.

"Too . . . .wet . . . for . . . friction," House grunted, suddenly losing the power to form complete sentences.

"You're not complaining, I take it?" Cuddy asked seductively.

"Hell . . . no," House croaked. Suddenly, he slid his cock into her.

"Oh, yes," Cuddy moaned. He slid out again, resting his cock against her hip.

House kissed, licked and nipped at her neck, not being especially careful about whether he left a mark, knowing that she wouldn't be in the hospital of a couple of days.

Cuddy laced her fingers though the hair on the back of House's head, encouraging him to continue what he was doing with his mouth. Her hand reached down to stroke him, helping him maintain his erection.

One of House's hands found its way down to her clit. He began rubbing ever so softly, barely touching her at first, and then slightly increasing the pressure. Shivers shot through her body.

Between the delicious actions of House's mouth on her neck, the heat generated in her whenever she touched any part of him, especially his cock, and the tiny, delicate, exquisite actions of House's highly skilled finger on her clit, she could literally feel her toes curling. Her entire body stiffened, and then waves of pleasure overtook her as she came.

"First one," House uttered. She had barely finished as House pushed inside her, reigniting every nerve ending. His thrusting against her already highly sensitive clit, along with his finding the spot deep inside her, had her moaning his name.

The feel of Cuddy around him, and the almost bottomless desire on her face brought House close to the brink. He was trying to hold back when he felt her entire body spasm in a second orgasm. House let go and his eyes rolled back in his head as he emptied himself deep inside her.

It took both of them several minutes to recover. They were snuggling against each other, still a little too buzzed to fall asleep.

"You know what?" Cuddy asked as she lightly stroked the hair on is chest.

"What?" House responded with his own question, gently drawing patterns on her back with his fingers.

"If anyone had told me I would be happy to have had a c-section when Michael was born, I would have said they were crazy," she stated. "Now I would tell them that they were right."

"Why?" he was intrigued where this was going.

"If I'd had the baby vaginally, I would have been stretched." Cuddy noted. "I'd be doing my kegels, but I'm not sure I'd ever get completely back to where I was. We fit together so perfectly, I'm glad we didn't have to lose that."

"Wow, you'd go through the pain of a c-section just to keep your pussy tight for me?" House asked in awe. "You must really like fucking me."

"It's way beyond 'like,' " Cuddy replied. "You probably were too focused on other things to notice, but you actually made my toes curl. Twice."

"Really?" House smiled one of his most evil smiles. "I'm a little too tired right now, but brace yourself for some serious toe-sucking in the morning."

Cuddy was about to feign disgust and tell House he'd better not even think about it, until she realized he would see right through that. Instead, she just gave him a small smile in return, "Goodnight, House. I love you."

"Goodnight Cuddy," House responded. "I love you, too."

They drifted off to sleep as the snow piled up outside.


	79. Chapter 79

A/N: Here is one of two Christmas Eve chapters. Of course, it starts with a little naughtiness, because what is a holiday with some of the kinky? Anyway, if that's not your thing, please feel free to skip this.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

House and Cuddy woke up to the sound of the snow plow on the street in back of their yard. Cuddy glanced at the clock and saw it was a little past five. She wondered if House would remember his promise to her last night. True to his word, he didn't roll over and go back to sleep.

Instead, House retrieved a blindfold and a towel from his nightstand. He placed the blindfold over her eyes.

He maneuvered her so her head was at the foot of the bed and put a towel between her and the comforter. He was nice enough to give her a pillow, which she placed under her head. She thought she could anticipate what was coming, but the blindfold left her completely vulnerable. That must have been House's plan. As nervous as that made her, she also recognized it was good for her not to be in control. The fact that she trusted House implicitly made things easier. Sure, he could be a jerk. But when it came to her body, he somehow seemed to know exactly what she needed, when she needed it. She was pondering all of this when she felt his breath on her left foot. She tingled with anticipation.

She felt House firmly grip her right ankle. She had expected either his mouth or his tongue. Instead, she was treated to what felt like his fingers, raking gently across the bottom of her foot. It was torturously ticklish and sensuously delicious at the same time. She shuddered, and then sighed. She also felt herself beginning to get wet.

After he had done this for what seemed to Cuddy like a torturously long time, he stopped. There was a slight pause, and then she felt House rubbing his face against the bottom of her foot. It seemed a little strange at first, until the rough edges of his stubble made contact. It almost hurt, but she was relieved because at least it wasn't ticklish. Well, certainly not as ticklish as his fingers had been. This allowed her to catch her breath a little, which was why she supposed House did it. However, it was all too brief.

He stopped again. She now felt softness and wetness. He must be kissing her foot. He covered the entire bottom and also kissed her toes, separating them to kiss in-between. After he was finished, he started licking and nipping lightly at her heel. This was more ticklish than his fingers, and Cuddy's first reflex was to pull away. House tightened his grip on her ankle just enough to keep her foot where he wanted it. Cuddy stopped struggling and allowed herself to actually feel the torture he was inflicting. Her nerve endings were on serious overload, and he had only reached her arch.

She wasn't sure could stand it once he started in on her toes. She noticed her breathing had become rapid and that she had become very wet. Suddenly, she felt something lightly brush her clit. House had discovered her wetness and his finger was exploiting it. Cuddy thought her nerve endings were over-stimulated before, but this magnified things by a factor of ten. She tried with everything she had to keep quiet, despite the fact that the most sensitive parts of her body were close to being on fire with pleasure. House began licking her toes and in-between, while increasing the speed and pressure on her clit. Cuddy felt her resolve to remain silent melting with her body. She let out a low, almost demonic moan. Her orgasm overtook her in waves of intense pleasure.

She didn't have the chance to recover before House grabbed her left ankle and started raking her fingers against the sole of that foot. He proceeded to do the same thing to her left foot that he had done to the right. Even though Cuddy knew what to expect this time, it didn't make the sensations any less potent. In fact, knowing what was coming and anticipating it seemed to intensify everything. By the time she had her second orgasm, the upper half of her was heaving and drenched in sweat, and her lower half was little more than jelly.

She was trying to catch her breath when she felt House grab her right ankle again and start using his fingers on the bottom of her foot.

"House . . . I . . . can't . . . take . . . any . . . more," Cuddy somehow managed to squeak out.

"Not much longer," House said quietly. "Just two more times . . . on each foot."

"House . . . please," Cuddy was beseeching him to stop.

"Okay," House conceded. "Just one more time on each foot."

Cuddy barely heard him as her body responded to him once again. He continued his ministrations on her foot and her clit. She was trying not to have another orgasm, but as he licked her toes, her body betrayed her and everything came crashing around her yet again.

She hoped he would stop and not do her left foot again, but he had become so focused on pleasuring her, there was no way he was not going to continue. He either didn't hear her begging, or he enjoyed hearing it just a little too much. It was hard to tell. After her fourth orgasm, she felt as if all her muscle tone was gone. House finally let go of her ankles. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief when she felt him spread her legs to an impossibly wide angle. Since everything below her waist was jelly, she didn't even attempt to close them back together.

House knelt on the bed, putting most of his weight on his left leg. He pulled her up so that he could thrust inside her. She was so incredibly wet, he wasn't sure there would be enough friction. What helped was her body twitching involuntarily. She seemed to have given up all higher reasoning skills and had become one giant, overstimulated nerve ending. He worried that he was hurting her until he felt her body clutching at his cock in another deep, intense orgasm. He had an erection since he started rubbing her clit that had only become harder as he watched her body respond again and again. His body seized in a powerful orgasm of its own.

He collapsed on the bed, exhausted. He managed to turn her around, get the pillow, remove the blindfold, and get her under the covers. She fell asleep in his arms, with the most blissful smile on her face he had ever seen.

* * *

Michael started crying around seven. That was the signal for Michael and Rachael to join them in bed. Cuddy got up shakily to retrieve Michael. She slipped a nightgown on before she left their bedroom. House got up and put on some sleep pants and a t-shirt, and quickly put the used towel in the hamper in their bathroom.

House returned to bed. Cuddy, still wobbly, entered the bedroom with Michael in her arms and Rachael following behind. They climbed into bed and Cuddy began to breastfeed Michael.

"Mommy," Rachael said. "You were walking kind of funny on the way here. Are you okay?"

The tiniest of smiles flashed across House's face, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

"I'm fine," Cuddy said. "I'm just a little tired, that's all." It really wasn't a lie; Cuddy was still pretty fatigued from the pre-dawn activities.

"Daddy, you look a little tired, too," Rachael observed.

"I could also use some more sleep," House commented. "What do you say we all take naps this afternoon?"

Cuddy shot him a warning glare, knowing that when House said "nap," he meant kids sleeping, adults having sex. She was pretty sure she wouldn't be ready for more even by the afternoon.

"_I'm_ not tired," Rachael proclaimed. "Besides, it's going to take me time to get ready to go to Aunt Andie's for dinner."

"Well, don't let your poor old parents' exhaustion get in the way of you and your stylist," House snarked.

"Oh please, Daddy," Rachael huffed as she gave him her best eye-roll.

Ever since the adoption was finalized, House noticed Rachael had been expressing more forceful opinions around him and felt freer to disagree with him. House guessed that many parents would not have liked that. To him, it was a positive thing. It meant Rachael felt secure enough about his love for her that she knew she didn't need to spend all her time agreeing with him or trying to please him. At one point, before he gave up, it was something he had wanted desperately with John. He couldn't change that now, but at least he could be sure his own children would not have to spend their time with him walking on eggshells and worrying about everything they said or did.

"It's Christmas Eve," Rachael remarked. "I know you don't have any memories of Christmas, Mommy, because you're Jewish, but you have some, don't you, Daddy?"

House's face lost its playful expression. Cuddy flinched as she saw the mask come down. She was debating whether to tell Rachael, in a nice way, not to ask about that to spare House any pain his memories might evoke. Then again, she knew House had his own strong, loving relationship with his daughter, and the last thing she wanted was to be like Blythe, running interference. She knew that would upset House even more.

"Well, kid, Christmas wasn't much different from the rest of the year for me," House stated. He really didn't want to get into it, so he was trying to keep his answers vague.

"What does that mean?" Rachael asked.

"Well, I didn't get many presents," he hedged.

"How many is 'not many'?" Rachael inquired.

"Most years, none," House replied, as he felt himself getting lost in the memory.

"Why not?" Rachael asked.

"My mom told me it was because we would be moving," House answered, "And that we didn't want to have to move a lot of stuff."

"But you didn't believe her," Rachael said.

"Well, other kids on the base were military brats like me, and their parents seemed to get them things for Christmas," House answered. "Besides, my Dad gave me another reason, which was that receiving gifts made people soft and that his son was going to be tough and learn to do without."

"Wow, that's so mean," Rachael remarked. "Didn't he know that giving someone a gift can be a way of telling them that you love them? I feel that way every time I look at the necklace you gave me."

"Maybe that's why he never gave me a gift," House said quietly. "Because he didn't love me."

"I don't understand," Rachael stated. "He was your dad, wasn't he? How could he not love you? You weren't even my official father until a little while ago, and you've loved me most of my life."

"I guess you're easier to love than I am," House admitted.

"No, I'm not," Rachael stated forcefully. "I could be a better student, and I don't always practice the piano when I should. And I do things I'm not supposed to. And I make a lot of mistakes all the time."

"You're just a kid," House responded. "You need people to cut you some slack."

"You were a kid," Rachael noted. "Didn't you need someone to let you make mistakes, too?"

"Yes," House replied. "And my mom did, sometimes, especially when my dad wasn't around."

"Adults make mistakes all the time," Cuddy interjected.

"Really?" Rachael asked. "Even doctors?"

"Especially doctors," Cuddy replied ruefully. "And the hospital has the malpractice premiums to prove it."

"Hey, I cure most of my patients," House stated defensively.

"And yet, they still sue you," Cuddy countered.

"What does this have to do with Daddy's father being mean and not giving him Christmas presents?" Rachael asked, bringing the conversation back to where it started.

"It doesn't," House answered. "My dad was just a . . . " House almost said "prick," but he caught himself, " . . . not a nice guy."

"Do you have any other Christmas memories from when you were a kid?" Rachael asked, hoping there was something happy House could tell her.

"Not really," House said quietly. He had decided that the Christmas Eve his father had made him sleep outside wasn't really something she needed to hear about. Lucky for House, John had been stationed at Parris Island that year, so it wasn't a Northeast winter, but House remembered it had still gotten pretty cold after the sun went down. He made it through by finding a thin blanket and hiding behind a chair in the corner of the porch, so he didn't have to sleep on the ground. Still, he remembered shivering most of the night.

Without his consent, his body shuddered a little at the memory. He found himself pushing under the covers a little more, and pulling Rachael, Cuddy and Michael closer to him. The warmth of their bodies was one the best things he had ever felt.

"I do remember one Christmas when I was six or seven," House recalled. "My dad was away, so my mom gave me a few toys. Of course, he took them all away when he got back in April, but at least I had four months to play with them."

"That's so awful," Rachael said, wincing. "I wouldn't want to give back any of my toys."

"I think it was even harder because I had so few toys to begin with," House stated. "When I had those things, I felt like a normal kid for a few months. I could invite kids over and not be embarrassed about not having any toys for them to play with."

"What did you do when he took the toys away?" Rachael asked.

"I stopped bringing kids home, " House answered. "I went back to reading my books or playing by myself. When I learned to play the piano, that was a big help."

Cuddy was both fascinated and horrified at what she was hearing. No wonder House could spend hours using his Playstation by himself, or even just tossing his big red tennis ball around. Just to have some kind of "toy" to occupy himself must have seemed like a luxury. It also explained how he became so socially isolated over the years and thought it was normal. It was what he was used to. At least he knew he wasn't alone now.

Michael had finished breastfeeding and was getting fussy. He really needed a change. "I'm going to get up and change Michael, Cuddy announced, "And then I'm going to the kitchen to make breakfast. I expect to see everyone there in ten minutes!"

Rachael stayed behind after Cuddy left. "I'm sorry your dad was such a bastard."

"Thanks," House replied. "I appreciate the sentiment, but don't use that word again, at least in front of your mother or at school, okay? Otherwise, I'll get in trouble for corrupting you."

"I'll be careful," Rachael assured him. "I'm sorry you don't have any happy Christmas memories."

"I didn't say that," House responded. "I just didn't have many from when I was a kid, that's all. I've had quite a few decent Christmases with your mom and Wilson.

"But they're both Jewish" Rachael stated, "How did they know how to make your Christmas happy?"

"Interesting, huh?" House asked. "I guess it was just because they were there. It kept me from being lonely."

"Well, I'll never let you be lonely on Christmas again," Rachael vowed.

"Thanks, kid," House said absently. He thought of later years, when Rachael would be too busy to come home from college or graduate school, when she would spend Christmases with her co-workers because she couldn't get away from her job, with her boyfriend and/or husband's family instead of her own, or when she had a couple of small children and it was just too much of a hassle to travel. House decided he'd better enjoy this while it lasted. "But I don't want you to re-arrange your life to accommodate me."

"What does that mean?" Rachael asked.

"It means I don't want you to change what you want to do just because of me," House replied.

"Why wouldn't I do that?" Rachael asked with genuine sincerity. "You're my dad and I love you."

"I love you, too, baby girl," House sighed. He didn't know if there would be any gifts this Christmas, but he had just received something he wanted very much. He put his arms around Rachael and hugged her tightly.

"We need to go to breakfast!" she declared after a little while.

"Go ahead," House said with a nod in the direction of the kitchen. "I'll be there in a minute."

House never liked anyone to see him get up out of bed. It was painful and awkward.

He moved his legs over the side of the bed, bracing his right one with his hands. He reached over and grabbed the bottle with his pain meds and took them. He got up and went to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror as he washed his hands. His hair was all over the place and he did look a little tired, but it was _so_ worth it. He looked down to see himself starting to get hard just thinking about it. He pushed it out of his mind and headed toward the kitchen.


	80. Chapter 80

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc. Except OCs**

The snow stopped around noon. There were about eight inches on the ground and snow was predicted again starting around midnight and into the day tomorrow.

Cuddy had the same snow plowing contract she had set up last year to clean the driveway and the sidewalks. Since Wilson's back was still bad, and Andie was pregnant, she suggested they do the same. When the plow came that afternoon, Andie requested they clear a path between the two houses, since Cuddy, House and the children would be over for dinner that night. She really didn't want House with his cane or Cuddy carrying Michael walking up and down two slippery driveways.

As the day progressed, the wind became stronger. Even without any more snow, the two driveways started to fill up with drifts, along with the path between the houses. The temperatures also dipped below freezing. With the wind chill, it was almost zero.

Cuddy didn't want to bring Michael out in the intense cold. Andie had prepared a lot of food. Since it was going to start snowing again, and then more wind was predicted, and since they couldn't get the driveways plowed on Christmas, they decided to change the venue for all the holiday events from Andie's house to next door. It took some doing to get all the food for the evening, and the next night, plus presents and changes of clothes next door in the howling wind, but with everyone pitching in, they somehow managed it in under half an hour.

Wilson and Andie settled their things in the guest room, and Catia took her usual spot in the upper bunk in Rachael's room.

Andie and Cuddy were working on dinner while House and Wilson sat in the family room watching TV.

"I know this is a marathon, but how many times can you watch 'A Christmas Story'?" Wilson asked.

"I guess you can't relate, as a _Jew_," House responded. "Hey, it's just the best thing on right now. Unless you can stomach 'Miracle on 34th Street,' 'It's a Wonderful Life,' or 'A Christmas Carol.' Or, even worse, 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas.' All that gag-inducing holiday –inspired change. Good thing your girlfriend is going to feed me, or I'd get the dry heaves."

"Actually, I think you don't want to watch those shows because they remind you of yourself," Wilson said. "Especially the Grinch."

"Are you waiting for my heart to grow three sizes?" House asked. "As a doctor, you know that would mean an extremely enlarged heart and probably death."

"Well, as long we reduce the capacity of the human heart for redemption to something pathological, then I guess you're okay with it," Wilson stated.

Suddenly, silence fell between them. "I didn't mean that," Wilson admitted.

"I know," House said quietly. "But you know I don't believe in redemption."

"How can you not believe in something you've experienced?" Wilson asked.

"What?" House asked. "What redemption? I'm the same misanthropic bastard I've always been."

"Really?" Wilson questioned incredulously. "When Cuddy gets in bed with you every night, does she know she's supposed to ignore you and pretend you don't love each other? Does Rachael know you don't really love her, even though you adopted her? Does Michael know that you don't love him, even though I know you'd lie down in front of a train if it would save him? Come on, House. You have a family, and it's changed you."

"Yes," House admitted. "I have been changed by my families."

I took Wilson a minute to notice the plural. "Families?"

"My wife and children," House said, "And then there's my BFF, and finally, a girlfriend I can at least tolerate, their daughter, and, some hopefully not-too-obnoxious children coming."

Wilson knew how significant it was for House to admit how much the family next door, _Wilson's_ family, meant to him. He also knew how incredibly uncomfortable House would be if Wilson didn't do something to diffuse the situation. "Is this my Christmas present, House?" Wilson said, his voice dripping with fake sentiment and both of his hands over his heart.

"This, and whatever junk Cuddy bought you," House stated. "You and Cuddy must have whole generations of Hebrew ancestors spinning in their graves knowing their progeny celebrate Christmas."

"You know, after what happened in November, I almost took the bait on that," Wilson countered. "Nice attempt at deflection. I'd give it an '8.'"

"Thanks," House acknowledged. "Oh, here's the part with the pole and the kid's tongue."

"I know," Wilson sighed wearily. "I double dog dare you . . . "

Catia and Rachael came into the family room. "Mommy says it's time to come to dinner."

"What are we having, anyway?" House asked.

"Cioppino," Wilson answered.

"What the hell is that?" House asked.

"Seafood stew," Wilson replied. "Andie's made it for you and Cuddy before. I think it was last spring."

"If you're supposed to eat it in the spring, why are we having it now?" House inquired. He and Wilson had reached the table.

"Because I'm lazy," Andie answered.

"What?" House questioned.

"The Italian tradition is to eat seven fishes on Christmas Eve," Andie replied. "My Nona actually used to make seven different dishes. I just make one with seven kinds of fish in it."

"What kinds of fish are there?" Rachael asked, somewhat warily.

"Shrimp, scallops, halibut, calamari, mussels, and scungilli," Andie replied.

"That's only six," House commented.

"You're right, let's toss it out and start over," Andie joked. "Oh wait, there are anchovies in the sauce. I guess we can eat it after all."

Rachael sat down looking a little skeptical. "Just eat the fish you like," Catia, a veteran of what the under-ten set considered "exotic" food, helpfully informed her. "That's how I get through it."

"Thanks," Rachael responded.

They sat down to eat the cioppino, with broccoli in a lemon sauce and a salad with vinaigrette as side dishes. And, of course, lots bread for dipping in the sauce.

Dessert was Italian cheesecake, or, as Andie called it, ricotta pie.

The girls went to the family room to watch TV as Cuddy took Michael to get him ready for bed. Andie, Wilson and House put away the leftovers and cleaned up. Cuddy brought Michael out to say goodnight.

"Goodnight, blue eyes," Andie said as she covered his cheeks in kisses.

"Sweet dreams, Michael James," Wilson said as he kissed his forehead and hands.

"See you in the morning, buddy," House told the baby as he nuzzled his neck and then kissed him on the lips. "I love you."

Cuddy went back to Michael's room to put him in his crib with some endearments of her own and returned.

Wilson and House were just sitting down with their coffee. Andie had put the kettle on and the water was hot enough for Cuddy to make tea. She made a cup for herself and one for Andie and joined them at the table.

"It was an abominable decade for music," House proclaimed, as if that were the last word on the subject.

"Which?" Cuddy asked, joining the conversation in the middle. "The seventies?"

"Well, that was bad, too," House agreed. "But at least it started out okay. The eighties started bad and just got worse."

"Springsteen had a couple of very good albums in the eighties," Andie argued. "And Sting's stuff wasn't too bad, once you discount all the self-important political claptrap."

"That's his entire body of work, except for Ten Summoner's Tales, and he made that in the nineties," House countered. "Oh, and that ridiculous foray into sixteenth century lute music a few years back."

"The music was excellent. His performing it was bizarre. What was he thinking? There is only employment for about five professional lute players in the world, and he had to throw at least two out of work with that little escapade." Andie conceded. "Hey, what about Tears For Fears? They were good."

"Not good enough to drown out Wham and Culture Club," House contended. "British music in that decade sucked even worse than American music."

"Except for Madonna," Andie winced. "Although I did like the visual humor of the Material Girl video."

"Completely canceled by the idiotic pseudo-religious symbolism of Like A Prayer," House shot back.

"True," Andie said. "I've always preferred Cyndi Lauper, anyway."

"You're kidding, right?" House asked incredulously.

"Hey," Andie argued, "Anyone who can make a pop hit out of group masturbation is pretty good in my book. You have to admit 'She Bop' is a modern classic."

"Liked the topic, hated the song," House stated.

"Why?" Andie asked.

"What good is a song about masturbation that you can't masturbate to?" House answered her question with another question.

"I take your point," Andie conceded.

"Isn't Christmas Eve a night of solemnity for millions of people across the world?" Wilson asked.

"Yes," Andie replied.

"Do you think we should be talking about masturbation, then?" Wilson inquired.

"First, there are only Jews and atheists in this room," Andie responded, "So no one here should be offended. Second, what's so 'irreverent' about masturbation? How do you think all those celibates get through?"

"What?" House said, his interest piqued. "Do you have any statistics on that?"

"No," Andie admitted, "It's just a guess. I know it's what got me through all those years between my divorce and meeting James."

"Okay" Cuddy interjected. "I think we're in the TMI zone about now."

"No we're not," House insisted. "Did you know that one of my favorite discoveries when Cuddy and I first got together was her purple vibrator?"

"House!" Cuddy exclaimed as her face turned red.

"If this conversation doesn't change direction, we're going to bed," Wilson stated.

"What's this 'we' stuff?" Andie asked Wilson. "The conversation is just starting to get really interesting."

"You're aware that I have to work with these people, aren't you?" Wilson implored.

"Well, then, you go to bed," Andie responded. "And you, too, Lisa. Greg and I will just have a heart-to-heart conversation without you."

"Oh, God," Cuddy and Wilson groaned in unison.

Andie reached into her pocket and gave House a hundred-dollar bill.

"Thank you," House said with an evil grin.

"You were right, they were just _that_ squeamish," Andie tried to look upset, but her smile gave her away.

"I feel like I'm taking advantage of you," House said. "I've know him for fifteen years and her for twenty-five. Of course I would know better how they'd react."

"Well, if you feel that badly, you can always give me some or all of my money back," Andie suggested.

"Not a chance," House replied.

"I thought not," Andie stated, smiling even more.

Rachael and Catia were ready for bed and came into the kitchen. They said their goodnights and were hugged and kissed by each adult.

They crossed the family room to Rachael's room and went to bed.

"You guys better keep it down," House proclaimed out of the blue. "I don't want my son and daughter traumatized by screaming in the middle of the night."

"We will if you will," Andie countered.

"We're not noisy," Cuddy claimed.

"Don't forget our master bedroom is on the opposite side of the house as yours is," Andie reminded her.

"What do you mean?" Cuddy asked.

"Well, there have been quite a few nights when we both slept with windows open," Andie told her, "And let's just say, when it comes to volume during sex, you guys have been an 'eleven' more than once."

"I'm so sorry," Cuddy said, her face almost bright red.

"Don't apologize to me," Andie said. "You should actually feel good about it. It turned out to be an, um, _inspiration_ to James and me."

"You're welcome," House interjected. "Just being neighborly."

"This conversation better end soon," Wilson stated, "Or I'm going to lose that expensive, beautifully prepared seafood I ate at dinner."

"Hey, who wants to watch 'A Christmas Story'?" House asked.

"Oh, I love the part with the pole and the kid's tongue!" Andie exclaimed.

Both Cuddy and Wilson rolled their eyes.

"I've pushed this about as far as I can." Andie said. "I think it's time for us to retire."

Andie gently took Wilson's hand and led him across the family room to the guest room. House smiled as he noticed Andie let go of Wilson's hand and slip her hand down the back of Wilson's jeans. They went in and closed the door.

"Looks like it's just you and me," House observed.

"Wanna go make some noise?" Cuddy asked with a diabolical look on her face.

They began walking toward their bedroom.

"What did you have in mind?" House questioned.

"Let's just say payback's a bitch," Cuddy replied with an evil grin.

"I guess I'd better keep my socks on," House said.

They entered the bedroom, closed the door and began getting ready for bed.

"I'm a resourceful, woman, House," Cuddy asserted. "I don't think a pair of socks will stop me. Remember that night about five years ago when it didn't?"

"I remember those meds sucked," House, "I've tried to forget most of the rest. Not my finest hour."

"Even the sex?" Cuddy asked.

"I said 'most,'" House replied with a small smile.

"What else was there that you needed to forget? " Cuddy questioned.

"The pain," House said around his toothbrush as he brushed his teeth.

"That was bad. But it wasn't your fault, so what do you mean it wasn't your finest hour?" Cuddy asked as she removed her makeup.

"I was weak and helpless," House admitted in a low voice. He flushed the toilet.

"Again, not your fault," Cuddy said after she finished spitting out the toothpaste.

"It isn't about fault," House explained as left the bathroom heading for the bed. "It just wasn't . . . I didn't want to look . . . forget it," he said as he removed his clothing

"What?" Cuddy asked as she flushed the toilet and washed her hands. She headed to the bedroom and saw House sitting on the side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped. He didn't respond to her question.

Cuddy began to get undressed, still trying to figure out what House meant. "Wait," Cuddy stated. "You didn't want to look weak and helpless in front of me."

"Hardly sexy," House added. He had climbed in bed and was looking up at the ceiling.

"And yet," Cuddy said as she got in bed, "We had some amazing sex anyway. So why does it bother you?"

"Don't know," House muttered. "It just does."

Cuddy looked at him carefully. "You seem . . . ashamed."

House turned his head away.

"Is this because your mom was too weak to protect you from John?" Cuddy asked.

"No," House choked out. Cuddy couldn't see House's face, but she could hear that his breathing was a little ragged.

"No, it's deeper than that," Cuddy reasoned. Suddenly, anger flashed across her face. "That SOB, I don't how he did it, but he made you feel ashamed of being weak, didn't he?"

Although Cuddy could only see the back of his head, she could see him nodding.

"Oh, House," Cuddy sighed. She managed to get her hand on his cheek. She felt wetness as she pulled his face toward her. He buried his head in the space between her neck and shoulder.

She waited until his breathing evened out.

"In addition to being an SOB, John was an idiot," Cuddy declared.

House lifted his head and looked at her quizzically.

"He was apparently clueless about the effect of male vulnerability on the female libido," she clarified.

"You mean," House asked, "Instead of feeling like crap all these years, I could have been getting laid?"

"Absolutely," Cuddy said. "I'll always spread my legs for a vulnerable man."

"Um," House hesitated, "I hope you're a little more selective than that."

"Let me re-phrase that," Cuddy corrected, " . . . for one vulnerable man in particular."

"How about now?" House asked.

"Yes," Cuddy said, "But first, I have some revenge to enact."

"Damn," House responded. "I was hoping you'd forget that part."

"Not a chance," Cuddy smiled.

She turned herself so that her head was at the foot of the bed, facing House's feet. She grabbed the toe of the sock House was wearing and pulled so that the top of the sock slid slowly down House's ankle, over his heel, across his arch over the ball of his foot and off his toes. It was like a little strip tease.

"That really isn't good for the elastic of the sock," House commented.

"Yeah," Cuddy stated, "Because you're all about taking extra special care of your clothes." She grabbed the toe of the other sock and did the same thing. Cuddy sighed looking at his bare feet.

"I know I've told you this before," Cuddy said, "But you have the most delicious feet."

House didn't have long to wait to find out what Cuddy intended to do. She didn't bother using her fingers. She started right in with covering his foot with kisses. It wasn't particularly ticklish. It felt more loving than anything else. She stopped just before she got to his toes.

She began again at his heel, this time licking up the entire bottom of his foot. House's initial reaction was to pull away, but Cuddy's grip was remarkably strong. House stopped fighting and tried to hold his foot still, although it was extremely difficult. He also became aware of his penis stiffening.

Cuddy stopped after she was finished with the ball of his foot. She paused for just a second. "Now, for the yummiest part," she declared in a low, throaty voice. She took his big toe into her mouth and licked it, her tongue traveling in a circular motion from the base of his toe to the tip.

"Mrgmph," was all House could mutter in response.

Cuddy did the same thing to every one of his toes on that foot, making sure to finish by sucking on his little toe.

House was almost fully erect, and he knew she still had the other foot to go. He wasn't sure how he would hang on for that.

She did the same thing to his other foot. At this point, House's cock was completely erect. "Cuddy . . . don't . . . think. . . I . . . can . . . wait . . . "

"Let's see," Cuddy said with a grin that was pure evil.

She gave both is feet the same treatment for a second time. By the time she was finished, House's cock was throbbing.

"Cuddy . . . please," House implored.

Cuddy got on her knees and went up the bed. She straddled his hips and slid her pussy over his cock.

"So . . . wet," were the only words House was able to form.

Cuddy slid House inside her. "So hard," was her reply.

Cuddy could feel House wanting to thrust, but she held down his hips with her thighs. House groaned in frustration until he felt her muscles move across his cock. His initial thought, such as he could think, was that she was already having an orgasm. But when he looked at her, he didn't see release, he saw concentration.

Somewhere in the back of House's brain, it registered that Cuddy was actively trying to stimulate his cock using the muscles in her walls. The idea was so hot, House almost came right there. But, there was still a small part of his higher brain function working and he wanted to see what she was going to do.

Cuddy seemed to be working on contracting and releasing muscles at different times and in different parts of her body. The sensations were so incredible that House stopped trying to figure out what she would do next and just gave himself completely over to her. It was a form of control he wasn't sure he had ever given up before. When his release finally came, it was a total physical and emotional surrender.

Cuddy's orgasm was long, hard and overtook her entire body. She was overwhelmed with the pleasure of giving him pleasure.

Neither remembered how it happened, but after their senses began to return, they found themselves side by side in each others arms. They both started to cry. They clung tightly to each other until the emotional storm subsided.

Cuddy went to the bathroom and washed her face. She brought a warm washcloth and washed House's face. She put the used washcloth in the hamper and returned to bed and House's arms.

"My God, woman," House croaked out, "Where did you learn to do that?"

"I found this tantric yoga manual on-line and I ordered it," Cuddy replied.

"I'll never make fun of you for doing yoga again," House fervently promised.

"It's a three-hundred page book with illustrations," Cuddy informed him.

"So, there's more where that came from?" House asked, unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"Much more. Merry Christmas, House," Cuddy responded.

House fell asleep holding, and dreaming of, Cuddy.


	81. Chapter 81

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

The snowplow came through the cul-de-sac at about four-thirty in the morning, prompting both Cuddy and Andie to get up and put Christmas presents under the tree in the family room.

They didn't speak so they wouldn't wake up the kids. They did smile slyly at each other as they returned to their respective bedrooms for a little early morning something-something.

At six-thirty, Michael began to cry, which prompted Cuddy to get him and have Rachael follow into their room.

Catia wasn't used to going into Andie and Wilson's room, but she didn't want to stay alone in Rachael's room. At home, she usually stayed in her bedroom until she heard Wilson and Andie in the kitchen making breakfast. Rachael suggested she knock on the door and see what happened.

Catia went to the door of the guest room. She tried not to look at the presents under the Christmas tree as she walked by. She knocked and waited to hear something.

"Come in," Andie said, obviously still a little bit asleep.

"Mommy," Catia asked tentatively as she opened the door and entered, "Can I get in bed with you?"

"Sure," Andie answered. Catia almost ran across the room and climbed up on her mother's side of the bed.

"I don't want you to fall out." Andie said. "I can't lift you, so why don't you climb over me?"

Catia carefully slid across her mother's body, being careful of knees and elbows, especially near her mother's abdomen.

When she reached the center of the bed, she planned to settle in on her mother's pillow to avoid disturbing Wilson in any way. This was a rare privilege she had been afforded, and she didn't want to mess it up.

She thought it worked, until she felt Wilson slide his arms around both her and her mother. She thought he might be asleep, until she felt him kiss the top of her head.

"Hi, sweetie," she heard him say. The warmth of the two bodies surrounding her made her sleepy. She drifted off in a warm cocoon.

Without even discussing it, Cuddy and Andie both got up at eight to shower. They met in the kitchen to make breakfast.

House, Wilson and the children showered and emerged from their respective bedrooms at eight-thirty.

The girls offered to help with breakfast, while House and Wilson headed to Michael's room to change him.

Andie smiled to herself. Or so she thought. "What?" Cuddy asked, now quite attuned to her friend's moods and signals.

"I'm guessing you could change Michael alone, and in your sleep," Andie stated. "And when he was a newborn, you did just that many times a night for many nights."

"Yes," Cuddy responded.

"However, it takes two men to change a more or less cooperative six-month old," Andie noted. "Oh, and they both had a decent night's sleep."

Cuddy gave her a knowing smile. "Are you concerned about how you are going to handle twins?"

"Of course," Andie replied. "I just remember how tired I was with Jake when he was a newborn. And he was only one child. And I was younger."

"It sounds like you might need some help." Cuddy suggested gently.

"My job isn't like yours," Andie said. "It's flexible. I can probably get another six months to a year away, if I insist."

"Even if you're home full-time, Wilson will be at work and Catia will be at school for most of the day," Cuddy noted. "You'll still need some assistance. Do you want me to talk to Daniela about someone to come in during the week, at least?"

Cuddy felt like she was pushing, but she also didn't want hear on the eleven o'clock news about her hormone-crazed, exhausted-to-the-point-death next-door neighbor doing harm to her children.

"If I say 'yes,' does that make me a bad mother?" Andie asked.

"I have a lot of help with my children," Cuddy replied, "including a nanny, two back-up babysitters and a next door neighbor who is wonderful about helping me. Do you think I'm a bad mother?"

"No," Andie said. "But your job . . . "

"It isn't the job!" Cuddy insisted. "You're going to need help. Your children deserve a functioning mother who isn't so tired that she's ready to collapse."

"I'd like to think you're exaggerating," Andie stated, "But I know you're not."

"So," Cuddy asked, "You'll let me talk to Daniela's agency about someone?"

"Okay," Andie conceded.

House and Wilson entered the room triumphantly with Michael and his newly changed diaper.

As Andie and Cuddy continued to work on breakfast, Andie muttered quietly out of the side of her mouth to Cuddy, "How many doctors does it take to change a . . . _light bulb_?"

Cuddy had to suppress a laugh as she looked at her husband and her best friend, so proud of themselves for doing the simplest of things. _Oh, well, at least it was some training for Wilson_ Cuddy thought.

Cuddy and Andie thought it would be the girls pestering them about the Christmas gifts, but, House, channeling his inner twelve-year-old, was the first to say anything.

"Mmomm," he whined, "Can we open some presents now?"

Andie put the egg strata in the oven and they all headed toward the family room.

Rachael and Catia started tearing into their presents. "Just read the gift tags so you know who to thank," Cuddy warned Rachael.

"Same goes for you," Andie informed Catia.

"Can I open Michael's presents?" House asked eagerly, his inner child on display once again.

"Okay," Cuddy replied.

"Let's see what cool stuff Uncle Jimmy bought you," House said to Michael as he read the gift tag and tore into the first present.

"What the hell is this?" House asked as Cuddy shot him a glare for his language in front of the children.

"It's an educational toy," Wilson responded defensively. "He's supposed to make chains out of the letters and numbers. It teaches him letters, numbers and colors, not to mention helping him with his fine motor skills."

"Bor-ring," House stated. "I suppose you're going to get him a pocket protector when he gets his first job?"

"Actually, when he starts high school," Wilson said.

"Just so the other kids will want to beat the crap out of him," House responded. "How nice."

"He'll be tall and strong like you," Wilson insisted. "No other kid will touch him."

"I didn't get muscular until college," House noted. "I was tall and skinny and the other kids beat me up all the time. I don't want him to be a target the way I was."

"You'll protect him, House," Wilson stated.

"How can a really old guy with a bad leg and a cane protect him?" House asked bitterly. "If I'm lucky, I may even need a walker or a wheelchair by then."

Suddenly, what had been playful banter became serious. And depressing.

"Hey, if you get one of those motorized wheelchairs," Andie said, "They won't be able to outrun you. A really angry old guy, coming after me at top speed and yelling would sure scare me. And you could keep your cane to hit them with."

House's anger dissipated at the image Andie had evoked. He smiled slightly. "Hey, Wilson, did you get him anything else that isn't so lame?"

Wilson winced slightly as he got up to hand House another package for Michael.

"Is your back bothering you?" Andie asked with concern.

"A little," Wilson answered. He didn't want to ruin the day by telling everyone he was in a significant amount of pain. His back always hurt since the assault. Today it was worse than usual. Even though the bed in the guest room was comfortable, it didn't have the memory foam cover that Wilson and Andie's bed did. That was the only bed surface Wilson found tolerable these days. And the cold didn't help things, either.

Wilson knew that his back would be better if he were more conscientious about physical therapy, but, some days, he just didn't have the time. It also hurt during and immediately after the sessions, which made him reluctant to do it. He also knew there was no point in complaining. House, who had somehow learned to deal with his pain in part because of physical therapy, would just give it right back to him.

At least everyone's attention had shifted back to House as he opened the present. Suddenly, Wilson felt Andie's hands slip under his sweater and shirt. She began gently massaging his back. It felt so incredibly good that Wilson didn't even hear House's comment.

"I said," House repeated in an irritated tone, "at least this one isn't as bad as the last one."

"I'm glad it meets your approval," Wilson responded in a distracted voice. At this moment, all he wanted was the massage and the opportunity to thank Andie by screwing her brains out. He realized the latter event might not happen for a while.

"What is it?" Rachael asked, having finished unwrapping her gifts and picking up the wrapping paper.

"It's a music mat," Wilson explained. "Michael James can make music by walking across it, or playing with his hands."

"Thank you, Wilson," Cuddy said, attempting to make up for House's lack of social graces by supplying some of her own.

"Yeah, yeah, blah, blah," House interjected.

House finished with the rest of Michael's presents just as the timer went off in the kitchen signaling that breakfast was ready.

"Time to eat!" Cuddy announced.

"But I didn't get to open any of my presents yet!" House whined.

"How old _are_ you?" Wilson asked.

They went to the dining room to eat breakfast. After everything was cleaned up, the girls went to Rachael's room to play with their new toys and Michael was put in his playpen to do the same.

"Okay, where are my presents?" House asked eagerly.

"Well, I told you about part of it this morning," Cuddy reminded him.

A wicked grin crossed House's face.

"From that look, I'm thinking you're not going to share what it is with us," Andie guessed.

"What else?" House asked.

"I have one more thing for you, House," Cuddy stated. "But we're going to wait until our guests open their presents first."

House voiced his disappointment, but they proceeded.

"This is for you from House and me," Cuddy handed what looked like a scroll of paper to Andie.

Andie opened it. "It's for a year of childcare from the nanny of my choice," Andie said quietly. "Well, now I understand why you were trying to get me to agree to get some help when the twins are born. I appreciate this, but I'm not sure I can accept it. This would cost a fortune."

"Do you know the number of times you've bailed me out with childcare this year?" Cuddy inquired. "Just knowing you're next door is a huge comfort to me. And I don't want to have to worry about you when I'm at work at you're at home with your twins . . . .with Wilson's twins . . . "

Andie wasn't sure she would ever fully understand the relationship between Wilson, Cuddy and House. They had worked together for years. And it was way more than that. They were best friends. And they aggravated the hell out of each other on a frequent basis. She knew that they had the power to truly hurt each other, and had done so on more than one occasion. She remembered how worried Wilson was when Cuddy was in the car accident, and how devastated both Cuddy and House had been when Wilson was attacked. Although Andie didn't have a lot of experience with families, she supposed this is what they would be like – driving each other crazy and going to almost any length to take care of each other. The fact that she had been allowed in, well, that was more than she could ever have hoped for.

"I'm sorry if I sounded ungrateful," Andie apologized. "This is one of the best presents I've ever received." Andie hoped they understood that it wasn't just the expense, it was that Cuddy and House cared what happened to her.

"Here's your present," House handed what looked like a book to Wilson. "It's sort of a gift for you, too." House looked at Andie.

Luckily, the girls were in Rachael's room. "Oh my God!" Wilson exclaimed as the wrapping paper fell away.

"What is it?" Andie asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"The Complete Kama Sutra," Wilson read the title, still in a state of shock.

"There's an interactive CD-ROM that comes with it," House helpfully informed him. "I'd like to borrow it when you're done."

"Whatever possessed you to get me this?" Wilson asked.

"I bought it around the time that Cuddy and I found out Andie was pregnant," House stated. "You don't want to miss out on the effects of those pregnancy hormones."

Wilson was doing some serious blushing at this point, while Andie had a huge smile on her face.

"Thanks," Andie said, "For _James'_ gift."

"I'd better put this in a gift bag or something," Wilson said. "We don't want Rachael or Catia seeing it."

"I'll go put it in our bag," Andie reached for the book, got up and headed toward the guest room.

After she returned, it was time for Wilson's present from her. "Can I borrow your laptop?" she asked Cuddy.

Cuddy went and retrieved it from the desk in the back corner of the room.

Andie went on the internet and logged into her e-mail. She searched and found what she was looking for. She opened the e-mail and the attachment and waited for it to download. She hit play and turned the laptop so everyone could see it.

"I'm guessing from the fact that you're willing to show us, this isn't an old porno you made working your way through college," House snarked.

Cuddy punched him lightly in the arm as Wilson began to narrate.

"It's my office," Wilson began, focused so intently on the video that he didn't noticed House's eye roll at the banality of the commentary. One wall has been painted . . . "

"It's the same dark green from Lisa and Greg's library that you said you liked," Andie interjected.

"There are frames on the wall," Wilson continued, again oblivious to House's expressions of disdain. "We're going in to see what is in the frames . . . they're pictures . . . oh, wow, that one must be when I was twelve."

"You were so adorable," Andie commented.

"For a total geek," House interjected.

Wilson was so engrossed he didn't even attempt to defend himself. "There's my high school graduation picture . . . "

"That has to be the worst mullet I've ever seen," House observed.

"There's one of me and Danny," Wilson said wistfully. It was from the time Wilson was a college student and before Danny disappeared. Andie rubbed Wilson's shoulder to comfort him a little.

"Hey, I didn't know there was a picture from that poker fundraiser," Wilson exclaimed as he saw a photo of himself and House in tuxes and Cuddy in a blue velvet dress.

"Wow, you had a lot more hair and a lot less gray then," Andie commented, looking from the picture to House.

"Thanks," House replied sarcastically. "Wait until you spend nine more years with Wilson and see how well you hold up."

"Who was taking pictures the day House and Cuddy moved?" Wilson asked, seeing a picture of himself and Andie the day they met.

"I might have taken a few," Cuddy confessed. She'd been pregnant and hadn't been able to do a lot of lifting, so she'd had time to do other things.

The rest of the wall had pictures of Wilson, Andie and Catia. There was even the first ultrasound of the twins.

Wilson and Andie were smiling and hugging each other. House felt a little jealous. It was something he'd experienced many times -- at Wilson's weddings, and when Wilson was with Amber. House, on the outside, looking in, secretly longing for the life Wilson had. So secretly, it had remained largely hidden from House himself. It took a few seconds for House to remind himself he finally had those things. He didn't need a wall of pictures to remind him. It was the kind of sentimental display House hated. Or so he tried to convince himself.

"How did you do all this?" Wilson asked.

"Well, one of Renaldo's exes is an interior designer," Andie explained, "And his current significant other works in a gallery that does framing. So, Bart did the framing and Thomas came in on Christmas Eve and painted and hung the pictures."

"This is just so amazing," Wilson said to Andie. "I don't know how to thank you."

"Just two words: Kama Sutra," Andie responded with a smile.

"This is for you, from James and me," Andie handed Cuddy a small, thin, box.

Cuddy opened it and read what was inside. "A year's worth of massages, every two weeks, at my office, by Klaus."

"Wait a minute," House interjected. "Klaus?"

"Don't worry," Wilson responded. "He's an ex of Sven's."

"Okay," House conceded.

"I've talked to Sheila," Andie informed Cuddy, "And this will be on your calendar every other Thursday from 4:30 to 5:30."

"But what if I have a meeting?" Cuddy asked.

"It won't happen at that time." Andie replied. "I know how this works. You think that you have to be available to patients, employees, the hospital board, donors, family -- pretty much everyone but yourself. Well, this time is going to be sacrosanct. Other than the hospital being on fire, or a natural disaster, you will take this time."

Cuddy 's first instinct was to protest, until she realized that the massages really weren't the gift, the time to herself was. "Thank you," she replied graciously.

"This is from us," Wilson stated as he handed House an envelope. "It's sort of a gift for Cuddy, too."

House opened the envelope. It was a gift certificate to a local motorcycle dealership. A substantial gift certificate.

"Sweet," House remarked. "But how is this a gift for Cuddy?"

"We figured she'd be slightly less worried if you gave up that old deathtrap for a newer, safer model," Wilson informed him.

"I'd bet they're having some really good sales now," House commented, and pointed at the snow out the window.

"Just invest some money and get something that won't threaten to fly apart every time you get on it," Wilson admonished.

"Yes, Mom," House replied.

"Can I use the laptop now?" Cuddy asked. Cuddy also went to the internet, opened her mail and looked for a file. She also downloaded a video. "Now, I didn't make any porn when I was an undergraduate," Cuddy explained, "But I did work my way through med school as a stripper."

"Seriously?" Wilson asked.

"No, you idiot," House replied. "Although I did have this very detailed dream once about Cuddy in a Catholic school girl's uniform dancing around a pole . . . "

"Enough," Wilson said, holding up his hands. "Are you sure you want us to see this?"

"Yes,'" Cuddy explained with exasperation. "It's completely 'G-rated.'"

This time the video showed House's office. It also had a wall that was newly painted, in dark blue, rather than green. The camera pulled in to show frames and pictures.

"Where are the embarrassing pictures of House as a kid?" Wilson asked with disappointment. "Better yet, the painfully awkward teenage years?"

"I'm sure John got rid of those." House responded. "One of the few favors the man ever did for me."

"Not even your high school picture?" Wilson asked.

"Nope," House responded. "But from what I remember, at least I didn't have some dorky mullet."

"They weren't in style when you graduated,"" Wilson reminded him, "Because you're too old. Besides, it's not like you'd have enough hair for one, anyway."

"My lack of hair is explained by my testosterone levels having been way above normal since puberty," House stated.

"Well, that also explains the uncontrolled hostility," Wilson opined.

"Are you going to look at this, or what?" Cuddy asked in frustration, knowing neither of them wanted to allow the other to get the last word.

She had started the video again. The camera was panning slowly over the wall of pictures. There was a picture of House playing lacrosse in college.

"Nice bod," Andie remarked, as Wilson shot her a nasty look.

"Thank you," House replied as he saw his twenties and thirties unfolding before him – golf, tennis, swimming, basketball, jogging.

"You were quite the jock," Andie observed. "You know, for a smart guy."

Before House had the chance to point out this was no longer the case, Cuddy jumped in, "Athlete, musician, scientist, linguist, and the bluest eyes I've ever seen. No wonder I couldn't resist him."

"I tend to prefer brown-eyed oncologists who are so accomplished they become department heads as ridiculously young ages, but, I take your point," Andie conceded with a smile.

There weren't any pictures from when House was in his forties. House knew that the infarction had made him isolated, but he didn't realize he had practically become a hermit. The pictures started again with the time he and Cuddy began seeing each other, including a grouping showing him asleep in various chairs with Rachael at various ages, and, more recently, with Michael joining them.

House was glad he hadn't called Wilson's present lame. It would have sounded like sour grapes, which was what it was. He was forced to admit to himself yet again how much he had wanted a family, especially since he had never really felt he belonged in his own family growing up. He had thought separating himself from everything would make the pain go away, but it just made the emptiness worse.

"Thanks," House mumbled. He felt almost overwhelmed by his emotions. He got up, ostensibly to get Cuddy's gift, but he was grateful for the moment it afforded him to collect himself.

"This is for you," House muttered, handing Cuddy a small box.

She pulled off the ribbon, opened it, and gasped. It was a gold heart, encrusted with fire-red rubies. Cuddy touched it carefully, looking like she was afraid to break it.

"Do you want to put it on?" House asked quietly.

"Yes," Cuddy whispered. As she lifted it out of the box, she saw an inscription on the back. _To my heart's desire. Love always, House._

Well, that did it. Cuddy began to cry. House put the necklace around her neck and clasped it in the back. Cuddy buried her face into House's chest, sobbing freely. After several minutes, she collected herself. "Thank you," she managed to croak out.

"Last present," Wilson stated. He got up and retrieved another small present and handed it to Andie.

She opened it and recognized the shape of the small, square jewelry box. Her hands were shaking.

Wilson opened the box, revealing a perfect, heart-shaped white diamond ring, and got down on his knees in front of her. "Andie Miles, love of my life, mother of my three children, will you marry me?"

"Yes," Andie said in a soft voice. Wilson took the ring out of the box and placed it on her finger. He kissed her tear-soaked face and then her waiting lips.

At this point, the girls came bounding into the family room to ask about lunch. "Why is everyone crying?" Rachael asked as she looked around. Instinctively, both girls went to their respective parents to comfort them.

"That's a beautiful necklace, Mommy," Rachael said as she hugged and kissed her. "It's almost as beautiful as the necklace Daddy gave me."

"You guys are getting married!" Catia exclaimed. "Yeah!" The three of them embraced.

All this emotion was definitely taking its toll on House. "Is it lunch time yet?"

"I'll go make some sandwiches," Cuddy replied.

* * *

A/N: A more abrupt ending to this chapter than I would have liked, but I wanted to get something done and published. What can I say? Writer's block is something that rhymes with rich!


	82. Chapter 82

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

The day after Christmas was a Saturday and the temperature rose well above freezing, so the snow and ice melted enough that Andie, Wilson and Catia were able to return home. Wilson's back was greatly helped.

Monday found House driving to the airport to pick up his mother for her promised holiday visit. House swore to himself (and promised Cuddy) that nothing of any significance whatsoever would be discussed in their household for the next few days. This plan seemed to work, until New Year's Eve.

Wilson, Andie and Catia were over. Knowing that the girls wouldn't make it until midnight, Catia once again stayed in Rachael's room. Since Blythe was using the guest room, provisions were made for Wilson and Andie to use the fold-out couch in the family room. Cuddy had even installed a memory foam cover to alleviate Wilson's back problems. Michael made it to eight-thirty and Rachael and Catia stayed awake until almost ten.

Once the children were asleep, the adults were left to talk. It was obvious Blythe still resented the things Andie had said to her. "Well, it's nice to see you're getting married," Blythe stated, "Even if you're already pregnant. Have you set a date?"

Andie almost mentioned the fact that Blythe's daughter-in-law was pregnant when she got married, but she didn't want to drag Cuddy into anything. "Not yet," she replied honestly.

"Since you're having twins," Blythe stated, "You'll be getting bigger a lot sooner. You don't want to have to be wheeled down the aisle."

Andie gritted her teeth. "We may just go see a Justice of the Peace or a Rabbi in a few weeks."

"Don't you want your families to be present? Are you ashamed of your . . . situation?" Blythe asked.

Andie wasn't sure if Blythe was trying to push her buttons, or if she was just oblivious. She knew Cuddy was happy for her, and even though House had criticized her for not using birth control, she knew he was happy for Wilson and she sensed he was looking forward to being Uncle Greg. Besides, Wilson knew she was proud to be carrying his children, and that was all that really mattered. So, she decided not to take the bait about being ashamed.

"James' brothers wouldn't be attending, and his parents will be in Florida until May," Andie responded. "As far as the rest of our family is concerned, I'm sure Catia, Lisa, Greg, Rachael and Michael will be there."

"I hate to point this out, but my son's family isn't your family," Blythe announced. "You're not actually related to them."

"Not by blood, no," Andie conceded. "But by every other way that matters, we are."

"There aren't any other ways that matter," Blythe insisted. "By definition, family is blood relatives."

"I have no cousins," Andie stated, "My father, brother, aunt and grandparents are dead, and my mother might was well be, at least to me. So, by your definition, other than my children, I have no family. That's pretty bleak."

"Sometimes reality is bleak," Blythe responded.

"Not if we have the chance to change it," Andie stated. "And I don't accept your statement that there are no definitions of family that matter other than blood relatives. My daughter and your granddaughter aren't, technically, blood relatives, but they are family. James, Lisa and Greg aren't technically family, but they take care of each other and drive each other crazy, just like family."

"And you're about to join in that particular dysfunction yourself," Wilson interjected with a smile.

"Mom, how can you say that blood is the only thing that matters?" House asked, genuinely puzzled. "You've insisted for years that John was my father, when we both know that he wasn't my biological father."

"Greg!" Blythe exclaimed. "Please don't air our family secrets in front of other people!"

"What 'other people'?" House questioned. "My wife, my best friend, who's known for five years, and his fiancée? It's not like I'm going on youtube with a video. Besides, it wasn't your fault. You were raped."

"Greg!" Blythe almost shouted. "Please stop!"

"I'm so sorry," Andie said. "I didn't know that part."

"It's none of your business, in any case," Blythe informed her in a curt voice.

The conversation stopped abruptly.

After a few moments, Blythe began talking again. "We had a New Year's Eve tradition in our family . . . "

"Oh, God," House interjected, rolling his eyes.

"Greg, don't interrupt," Blythe stated with irritation. "Anyway, we would talk about the things were thankful for in the previous year, and the things we felt we should improve."

"Well, Jews do have Yom Kipper around the time of Rosh Hashanah," Wilson interjected.

"What?" Blythe asked.

"A day of atonement around the time they celebrate New Year's," Andie supplied helpfully.

"Oh," Blythe responded, not sounding like she understood at all.

"I'll start," Cuddy said, trying to avoid another painful pause in the conversation. "Although I think I've gotten better this year, I still need to keep my professional life from encroaching on my time with my family."

"I'll second that," House interjected.

"This from a man who never let his job interfere with his achieving the next level on his Playstation," Cuddy snarked.

"It's not pretty when you let your jealously show over my ability to maintain a perfect work-life balance," House responded smugly.

"What about the things you are thankful for?" Blythe asked, fearing House and Cuddy would get into an argument.

"Let's see," Cuddy thought, "That's a long list – my husband, and the fact that he became my husband, my children, new and old friends, my job, my new house."

"What about you, Blythe?" Wilson asked, and doing his damndest to be polite, trying to set aside the things she had said to Andie.

"Well," Blythe said, "I think I need to improve the amount of time I spend with my son's family."

Of course, that was as much an indictment of House and Cuddy as it was anything Blythe did. Cuddy shot House a glare to keep him from rolling his eyes or making a comment.

"I'm thankful for my son finally deciding to settle down and get married, and I'm thankful for finally getting a grandchild this year," Blythe stated.

House winced, grateful that Rachael was asleep and didn't hear what his mother said. "Two grandchildren."

"Yes, well, I guess," Blythe said.

"You guess what?" House asked angrily. "I adopted Rachael, and she's as much your grandchild as Michael is, and you sure as hell better be grateful for her, too."

"Okay," Blythe conceded.

House realized that was as much an acknowledgement of Rachael as he was going to get from his mother. It rankled him no end that she could prattle on for several months now that he should accept John, the abusive prick, as his father, but she couldn't get her head straight when it came to his daughter. She'd even noticed how much House loved Rachael. A hell of a lot more than John had ever loved him. Why couldn't she be more accepting? He decided that if she hadn't at this point, she never would.

He had always felt barriers between himself and his mom when John was alive. He assumed it was because she didn't want to be disloyal to her husband, so she took John's side against him. Why now? Why couldn't she just love him and his family, now that John wasn't around anymore to disapprove? Old habits die hard, he surmised. He let it go, because he had to, and because he'd finally learned, after all these years, that when it came to his personal life, he didn't have to be right to be happy.

"My turn," Andie announced. "I need to improve my level of patience with my fiancé . . . "

"Because he needs a lot of patience," Wilson echoed, with a smile.

". . . And I need to stop telling people off . . . especially the mothers of my friends," she finished.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Blythe said, her own self-interest in the matter obvious to everyone.

"I'm thankful for . . . my daughter being healthy this year, finding neighbors who actually didn't mind my music and became friends, discovering the love of my life . . . and not losing him," Andie's voice was breaking, "And my twins . . . " she was crying at this point.

"God," House proclaimed, rolling his eyes, "Hormonal women . . . "

"Shut up," Cuddy said as she moved over next to Andie on the couch and put her arms around her.

"James?" Blythe asked.

He was so focused on Andie, he didn't hear Blythe at first. "Um, I need to improve my patience when it comes to pain." This was a difficult admission for Wilson, especially in front of House. Wilson had spent years negating House's pain and it was difficult to acknowledge that, let alone admit to his own seriously painful days.

"I'm thankful for my friends and their kids," Wilson acknowledged, "And, Andie, Catia, and our twins. Oh, and I'm thankful to be alive and more or less functional."

Everyone had expected a lot of flowery language and some serious crying when Wilson expressed his gratitude, so they were taken aback by his simple declaration of thanks.

"Greg," Blythe stated. "It's your turn."

"What I need to improve . . . " House said pensively, "Everything, but not as much as I used to."

He was ready to stop there, since expressing gratitude was never his strong suit. Andie, Wilson and Cuddy recognized this, and would have been likely to let it go at that. Of, course, Blythe wouldn't let him off the hook. "What are you thankful for, Greg?"

House rolled his eyes yet again. "Do I really have to do this?"

"Yes," Blythe insisted.

"Okay," House conceded. "I'm grateful for the new wide-screen TV that I got this year, and a room big enough to enjoy it in."

"That's it?" Cuddy asked.

"What?" House responded with his own question. "Don't you remember the discussion we had when we got it? If we could just get every man in the world a wide-screen TV and sufficient cable channels, they'd be so engrossed in watching it, there would be world peace. I'm just letting it begin with me."

"Thanks, St. Francis of Assisi," Andie interjected.

"I knew neither of the _Jews_ would catch that," House said sarcastically.

"Greg, would you be serious for one minute?" Blythe asked in frustration. "You can't tell me that with all the life-changing things that happened to you this year, that you're only thankful for a _TV_?"

"But it's a really nice TV," House protested.

"Grreegg," Blythe warned.

"Okay, okay," House admitted. "There are a few other things I am thankful for. Let's see . . . it took at least three months and a lot of trying to get Cuddy pregnant . . . our new next door neighbor was strong enough to move a piano, and is otherwise not a pain in the ass . . . my new house has radiant heat, so, for once in my life, my feet aren't cold . . . the food at the wedding was pretty good . . . and the bourbon was even better . . . because of my very pregnant wife, there was a lot of sex on the honeymoon . . . my wife and children didn't die in a car accident . . . the adoption process for my daughter was not completely humiliating . . . my best friend didn't die or become a drooling vegetable, in spite of a bunch of idiots with nothing better to do than terrorize geeky Jewish doctors . . . this same friend and his horny girlfriend, supposedly intelligent, mature adults, forgot to use birth control and are going to make me an uncle. . . yeah, that's about it."

House had tried his best to piss off everyone in the room with his unique take on the year's events. Somehow, it hadn't worked. Everyone except Blythe was smiling at him. Dammit, he really was losing his touch. Must not be miserable enough anymore.

It was close to midnight. Wilson was attempting to open the champagne. Although his motor skills and strength were returning, it was a slow process. He struggled with removing the cage from the top of the bottle, and even more so with the cork itself.

"Give me that," House snarled, "Or we won't be toasting until 2 a.m."

"Thanks for your patience and support," Wilson responded in his most sarcastic voice as he handed the bottle to House.

House opened the bottle easily, with the characteristic pop of the cork. He handed it to Cuddy, who poured glasses for everyone, with just a tiny sip for Andie.

The TV had been on in the background during their discussion with the sound muted. As it approached a minute before midnight, House, Keeper and Master of the Remote, turned the sound back on.

"House Rule," House declared, thinking himself rather clever for pointing out what was allowed in his home at the same time he made a reference to his name, "No lame counting down or shouting 'Happy New Year!'"

Wilson actually looked a little disappointed, but everyone else seemed okay with it.

The TV countdown began, "Ten … nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . "

House had just enough time for an eye roll as "Happy New Year" was declared.

Everyone drank their champagne. House pulled Cuddy into a deep kiss, and Wilson did the same with Andie. House hugged Blythe. Andie and Cuddy hugged as Wilson punched House on the arm for his remark about the hug being kind of hot.

"Killjoy," House muttered as he pulled Wilson in for a "manly" hug. Andie decided that mentioning that hug was hot, too, was probably not a good idea.

After a few minutes, Blythe spoke up. "At home, I'm usually asleep by nine thirty, so this is quite late for me. I think I'll head to my room now."

It was well past Andie's bedtime, too, given her exhaustion from the pregnancy. House and Cuddy stayed in the family room as Andie and Wilson used their bathroom to get ready for bed. When they returned, Cuddy helped Wilson open the fold-out couch. House and Cuddy went to their bedroom as Wilson and Andie settled into the sofa bed.

"So, do you think Wilson and Andie will do it, even though anyone could walk through at any time, and the sofa bed squeaks?" House asked as he and Cuddy got ready for bed.

"It makes it more illicit and exciting," Cuddy observed, "So, yeah, I think they will."

"Wanna go watch?" House inquired as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Since it would be like watching my brother have sex with his girlfriend, I don't think so," Cuddy replied with a grimace. "That room is so big, it can get pretty cold. I just hope they're warm enough."

"They'll be fine, _mom_," House snarked. "You gave them about fifty blankets, didn't you?"

"It was only four blankets," Cuddy responded. "And a comforter."

"That's enough to keep them warm if they were in a tent in January, let alone a room with heat in it," House noted.

Cuddy yawned, her fatigue finally overtaking her. "God, this was an excruciatingly long week. At least the department budgets are finally done."

"Blah, blah, blah," House responded. "I guess this means I'm not getting any?"

"Not right now," Cuddy said. "But, the kids stayed up late enough that we might get some extra time in the morning."

House pulled Cuddy as close to him as he possibly could. "Goodnight and Happy New Year."

"Goodnight, House." Cuddy replied. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he declared as they drifted off to sleep.


	83. Chapter 83

A/N: This is a Wiles chapter, so if it's not your thing, please feel free to skip it.

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

Blythe left for home on Saturday and everyone returned to work and school on Monday. January turned out to be extremely cold, but without a lot of snow. House found himself walking (or, rather, slipping) gingerly across the frozen parking lot at PPTH, and complaining at least twice a day – predictably after he came to and left from work -- to Cuddy about "the idiots on the maintenance staff who can't be bothered to ice the walkways."

Cuddy could see from the lobby when she was between patients in the clinic that the maintenance people were doing their best, but it was so cold that pretty much any salt or chemical they put down only lasted about ten minutes. She was concerned about them out in the bitter cold. So, she issued a memo saying that no one could be outside more than fifteen minutes at a time, and anyone caught not wearing appropriate footwear and gloves would have their pay docked. This presented a challenge to the ER staff meeting ambulances, but somehow the doctors, nurses and orderlies figured out a rotation and managed to comply with her directives. The good news was that no one on her staff got frostbite.

Wilson dealt pretty badly with the cold. His back pain varied from moderate to almost intolerable. Andie insisted he wear about six layers, and he was aware of all of them as he waddled across the icy parking lot every day. He might have been warmer if he had been willing to use the parking garage, but he hadn't even walked through there since the attack in November, and he didn't trust himself not to have a flashback or some other kind of problem if he went back. He also could have made his life a little easier by asking for a medical spot close to the entrance, but his pride and his guilt kept him from making the request.

The extreme cold, plus a very bad flu season, was also taking its toll on his patients. For his elderly patients, he seemed able to convince their families that a flu or pneumonia that allowed their parent or grandparent to slip away quietly was not the worst thing that could happen in what little remained of their lives. It was a tougher conversation with the families of the young patients, especially if they died before they had the chance to pursue all their treatment options. And the flu that year seemed to attack kids under twelve especially hard, which meant that he was losing more young patients than usual.

He shuffled home every day, bone cold, in pain, tired and depressed. It helped immensely that Andie was there, cooking soup or some other warm, comforting food, and making sure with her presence that his bed was warm at night. There were so many days he simply didn't want to leave it – leave her – to go out into the frigid, dark morning.

One Sunday he was called into work to deal with three young patients. They had all contracted the flu, and things were not looking good. Sadly, as it turned out, all three died within hours of each other, starting at midnight and ending at about seven Monday morning. It took him until almost noon to deal with the distraught families and the paperwork. He was exhausted and hurting both emotionally and physically. Cuddy insisted he go home for the rest of the day.

It was a little before noon when Wilson was pulling into the cul-de-sac. He noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway. He pulled his car over to the side of the road when he saw the front door opening. He was far enough away that he couldn't hear anything. He saw Andie walking a middle-aged, good-looking man to his car. They seemed to be saying goodbye, and they hugged each other. The man patted Andie's growing abdomen affectionately. He got in his car and started it. Andie waved as he backed out of the driveway and left. She went back into the house.

_What the hell?_ Wilson thought. _Who is that guy? What's he doing with my girlfriend, at our house, in the middle of the day?_ Of course, Wilson's tired mind jumped to the obvious. _She must be having an affair._

Even in his deeply fatigued state, Wilson was puzzled. He'd proposed at Christmas. They were getting married on Valentine's Day. She was pregnant with his children. Why would she have an affair now?

It didn't make any sense. Wilson began thinking back on the times he'd cheated on his first two wives, and when his third wife had cheated on him. There were always signs, most especially a feeling of emotional distance.

Wilson wracked his brain, but he was sure he sensed nothing at all like that. If anything, he and Andie seemed to become closer as the time passed and they learned more and more about each other. The sex was amazing, too. Was this guy some sort of phony sex therapist who had convinced Andie he was just "teaching" her new "techniques"? Wilson knew Andie was way too smart to fall for something like that.

Wilson was exhausted, and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't face going back to work (and Cuddy would have just kicked him out, anyway), and he wasn't sure he was in any state to go home. Should he go to a bar and get drunk? He winced as he remembered that was House's "solution" the night Amber died. Should he go check into a hotel and try to sleep for a few hours? No, that would be a total waste of money. In his current emotional state, there was no way he was going to sleep, no matter how tired he was.

Wilson realized that fleeing the situation was what he had always done before in his relationships. He decided that for once in his life, he wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that. Even if things were messed up between him and Andie, even if they were outright broken, she was still carrying his children, and he was still Catia's guardian. They would have to figure something out.

He drove the short distance and pulled into the driveway.

As he stepped into the foyer, he heard Andie in the kitchen. When she came out to see him, she was wearing the apron he had given her for Hanukkah. She looked so adorable in it, and Wilson realized once again how much he loved her. Damn, this was going to be painful.

"Hi," she said softly, walking over to him and putting her arms around him. "Lisa called and told me she was sending you home. I'm getting a few things started for dinner, and I've just heated up some soup for you for lunch."

_That's weird_, Wilson thought. _She knew I was coming home, and she didn't even try to get rid of her lover? Maybe when Cuddy called, they were right in the middle of something, and it took that long for them to get dressed and get out the door to his car. But they didn't seem to be rushing around, trying to hide anything_.

He was so lost in thought that Wilson didn't even notice where he going until he found himself at the kitchen table with a bowl of soup in front of him. He picked up the spoon and absentmindedly put some in his mouth. It was too hot and he burned his tongue.

He dropped the spoon. "Are you okay/" Andie asked, rushing over to him.

"I wasn't paying attention and I burned my tongue," Wilson explained.

"I should have warned you to wait a little," Andie stated. "I'm sorry."

_If that's the worst thing you've done today, I wouldn't worry about it_ Wilson thought. "It's no big deal," is what he actually said.

Andie noticed how distracted Wilson was. Cuddy had told her about his losing all three young patients in the space of a few hours. _And I think my job is crappy when I get a less-than-enthusiastic class evaluation from some undergraduate_ Andie thought. "Poor baby," is what she actually said.

Wilson's heart skipped a beat. Hadn't she just said something incredibly sympathetic and sweet to him? Unless she was a total sociopath, Wilson didn't think she could be having a raging affair and still be so tender to him. He decided he'd done enough speculating. He was going to confront this situation – confront her. Even if he didn't like what she was going to tell him, at least he'd know the truth. That was always better than not knowing. Wasn't it?

"Listen," Wilson began, "I need to ask you something. When I was coming home today, I saw a car I didn't recognize in the driveway. Then I saw you come out of the house with a man. And then you embraced, he patted you on your belly, and he left. What's going on?"

Wilson had never seen Andie blush. Until now. "Damn. Busted."

"What?" Wilson asked.

"It was going to be a surprise for your birthday this Saturday," Andie said. "Oh, well, I guess you'll just find out about it a little early."

_She's breaking up with me and leaving me for another man for my birthday? My God, even Julie wasn't that cruel_ Wilson thought with his tired mind. "I don't understand. How is your seeing another man a birthday present for me?"

"Is that what you thought? Well, I guess you might, if you were totally insecure and you didn't trust me," Andie surmised, her voice rising with anger. Then she took a breath and paused.

" . . . Or, if you were exhausted and in pain and not thinking clearly after the worst possible day at work," she continued, her voice softening. "Sweetheart, I'm not 'seeing' him."

"Then who is he and why was he here?" Wilson asked, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

"He's a rabbi," Andie answered. "He has a synagogue in Trenton. He's been tutoring me since Christmas. He came here rather than have me go there because he knows it's getting harder for me to travel as I get farther along."

"Tutoring you?" Wilson asked, now totally unable to figure out what was going on. "For what?"

"I've completed all my lessons and I'm converting," Andie told him quietly. "My baptism is at the synagogue on Saturday, which also happens to be your birthday. Even though you know about it now, I hope you'll still come with me."

Wilson was speechless for a moment. He sat there trying to process what she had just told him.

"But you're an atheist. What, how, why are you converting??" Wilson sputtered.

"I guess I'm going to join a long, proud line of Jewish atheists," Andie replied with a smile. "The 'why' should be fairly obvious."

"It isn't to me," Wilson stated.

"Hey, this is your religion and your ethnicity," Andie said. "You're the ones that insist that the children can't be Jewish unless their mother is Jewish."

"You're doing this because you want to have Jewish children?" Wilson asked.

"I'm doing this because I thought it would be important to you to have Jewish children," Andie replied. "I didn't want to deny you that."

What Andie had done was finally starting to sink in. "You went to all this trouble just to do something to make me happy?"

"And I hope it expresses how much I love you, too," Andie responded.

Wilson could feel his eyes stinging. "It does," he croaked, his voice breaking. His last twenty four hours had been awful. His fear that she was having an affair had been palpable. Now, his complete joy over what she was willing to do for their children, for _him_, well, all of it was more than he could take. He broke down completely, sobbing uncontrollably, not even bothering to cover his face.

Andie walked over to where he was sitting at the table. She got down on her knees and put her arms around him. She put his head against her shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair while rocking him gently and humming softly.

After several minutes, Wilson's breathing began to even out. Andie pulled away to look at him. He had stopped sobbing, although tears were still slipping down his cheeks. "Sorry about that," he said in a husky voice.

She kissed him several times all over his face. "Don't ever be sorry about crying in front of me."

"Okay," he acknowledged. "Hey, should you be kneeling down there like that?"

"The 'down' part isn't so bad," she replied. "It's the 'getting back up' part that's the problem."

Wilson smiled and offered his hand to steady her as she got up.

"I think your soup may have gone past cool enough to eat and is on its way to cold," Andie remarked. "I'll heat it back up for you."

Wilson put his hand over the bowl to stop her. "Right now, I think I need something else a little more than I need food."

He took Andie by the hand and led her to the bedroom.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Andie informed him and went in. Wilson took off his clothes while he was waiting. He had lost some weight since the attack, and he had done a lot more physical therapy since Christmas, so he no longer had his middle-aged paunch. Of course, any sexiness he might have gained from that was totally negated by the scar on his abdomen. He was seriously considering talking to Taub about whether anything could be done.

Wilson was sitting on the edge of the bed when Andie emerged from the bathroom. Wilson saw that she was still wearing that cute apron_._ When she turned her back to him to put something on the chair, Wilson also saw that she was wearing nothing else. _My God, she's got a fantastic ass_ Wilson thought. She bent down to pick up a stray sock off the floor. With her growing size around the middle, she was forced to stand with her legs fairly far apart. Wilson got the full view, and his body responded accordingly. "Get over here," he commanded, in a voice rough enough to surprise both of them.

Andie sashayed over to him, as much as she could sashay with her belly preceding her. She lifted up the skirt of her apron and climbed on to his lap. Wilson reached around and pulled on the string that tied the apron around her waist. He lifted it over her head. He looked down and saw her breasts. They hadn't been small before, but with the pregnancy they had grown at least a cup size. Her nipples had always been very responsive to the gentlest of touches, but they were hyper-sensitive now. He brushed his thumbs ever so slightly across them and they stood at attention. He licked them gently and they grew out at least an inch. "Beautiful," he said in a hushed voice.

Andie responded by moving her center slowly across Wilson's lap. Little Jimmy responded more and more vigorously as she got closer to him.

She moved her slick channel across the back side of his penis. Wilson thought he was almost ready to explode then. He slowly slid himself inside her waiting pussy. She moaned his name and began to move up and down on him. He could no longer hold back and he slammed into her. Her head fell back as she responded to his thrusts by bringing herself down on him. He wasn't sure if he had ever been this deep inside her. Her head fell forward and brushed against his shoulder as the pumping continued. Wilson felt her come first, her insides quaking and seizing all around him. He could no longer hold back as his body tensed and he emptied himself deep inside her.

They sat there for a few moments, attempting to collect themselves. They moved shakily back on to the bed and got themselves under the covers.

"I need you to do something," Wilson said.

"I'm not sure I can do too much right now," Andie conceded weakly, "So I hope this is not a request I have to fulfill immediately."

"It's actually something for the future," Wilson stated, smiling. "When I act like an idiot, and I think you don't love me, just tell me, okay?"

"Okay," Andie agreed. "Can you do something for me?"

Wilson was expecting her to tell him to have some faith in her, or to think more highly of her than to believe that she'd cheat on him. "Okay," he answered.

"Test the soup before you put it in your mouth," she requested.

"Was my tongue that dull?" he asked, chuckling.

"Not this time," Andie replied. "But if you keep doing that, you won't be able to taste anything after a while."

"Good thing you'll get more pungent as you get older," Wilson stated.

"That's seriously gross," Andie responded, making a face. "You'll still want me then?"

"Until my dying breath," Wilson said softly. They burrowed a little deeper against each other.

"How much longer before Catia gets home from school?" Wilson inquired.

Andie looked at the clock. "A little more than two hours."

"Can you stay here and keep me warm?" Wilson requested.

"Well, it will only take a few minutes to get up and get dressed," Andie noted helpfully, "So, yes, I can stay here for a while."

Andie knew Wilson was exhausted, so she spoke softly to him, and as he became less and less coherent in his responses, she started singing to him softly. He was asleep within fifteen minutes.

She stayed with him for more than an hour, and she really wanted to stay in bed with him longer, but she knew Catia would be coming home from school, and she had to get dinner finished. She got up and worked in the kitchen for a while and waited with Daniela for Catia and Rachael to get off the bus. Catia came in quietly with her and worked on her homework as Andie finished preparing dinner.

House and Cuddy came home and Daniela left at six. Cuddy called next door and told Andie that Wilson should stay at home another day.

Wilson was up just long enough to eat dinner and read Catia a story. He returned to bed, thinking he would wait for Andie. She found him asleep when she came to bed at nine.

She was seriously looking forward to seven hours tomorrow alone with him, so she fell asleep spooning Wilson, and smiling.

* * *

Andie's baptism on Saturday was a quiet event, with just Wilson and Catia in attendance. They celebrated by having House, Cuddy, Rachael and Michael over for dinner that night. Other than House making some politically incorrect jokes about Judaism and his sarcastic questions to Andie about her lost "devotion" to atheism, the evening was without incident.

Andie and Wilson's wedding was a couple of weeks later on Valentine's Day. House didn't think anyone could have a wedding as small as he and Cuddy did, but Andie and Wilson's was even smaller. The guest list was House, Cuddy and the kids, Wilson's parents, who had decided they would fly up from Florida, and Chase and Cameron and their kids. (Taub and his wife were vacationing in the Caribbean, and Foreman and Hadley were visiting Rodney to attend his seventy-fifth birthday party.)

Wilson couldn't invite Danny because Danny had a bad reaction to any change in his routine and to meeting new people. Wilson considered inviting his other brother, until Wilson spoke to him. There were too many comments about Wilson's "knocked up" girlfriend, questions about how long it would be before Andie became "plaintiff number four," and why couldn't any of his marriages be to a "real" Jew?

Wilson wondered why it angered him so much when his brother said this kind of thing to him, when House had said similar things (and worse), and it didn't bother him. Part of it was that House was clever and (mostly) funny when he made these kinds of comments, whereas Alan was just nasty.

The other thing was that Wilson could always tell that House, despite any protests to the contrary, actually cared about Wilson, whereas Alan didn't care about anyone except himself. House was the self-proclaimed "selfish bastard," who actually wasn't, and Wilson's brother was the "family man" and "upstanding citizen" who was a soulless hypocrite living behind a façade of respectability.

Wilson took a page from Cuddy's book about avoiding negative emotion and told Alan not to bother coming. As Wilson suspected, his brother was hardly upset about it. His only reaction was to tell Wilson to call him when the divorce was final. Or not bother to call him. Wilson wound up slamming down the phone. And being convinced he made the right decision.

The situation made Wilson realize something. When House was in Mayfield, Wilson had visited him and told House he was his brother. At the time, the obvious parallel was Danny. Now that House had been better for a while, and Danny was as good as he could probably ever hope to be, it occurred to Wilson that his relationship with House was at least as much about his relationship with his older brother as his younger one.

House still valued logic and intellect above all else. (The difference since he'd left Mayfield was that it was not to the _exclusion_ of everything else. From personal experience, House was forced to recognize that the effects of denying the pain in one's emotional life could be just as devastating as denying a physical condition.) The importance House still placed on rationality was mirrored in Alan's coldness and emotional distance. So, Wilson had come to realize that his current relationship with House was in some ways about working out the pain his older brother had caused him.

Wilson wondered if he should feel guilty about using House. Then again, given Wilson's need to follow rules and to be liked, he was pretty sure that House had used him to resolve some of House's issues with his father and his mother. He decided they needed each other for many reasons, most of which they were probably not even aware of.

* * *

Wilson's previous wives hadn't been Jewish, so he had gotten married in either Christian churches in the case of wives one and three and in a hotel by a justice of the peace in the case of wife number two. It had been years since he'd even set foot inside a synagogue and the last Jewish wedding he'd been to was his college roommate's a year after they'd graduated.

So, he was a little concerned that he wouldn't know what to do. He didn't need to worry. Between the rabbi and Andie, everything went off without a hitch. They stood under the Chuppa. The rabbi led the prayers and Wilson mumbled along, hoping his parents wouldn't see how much he'd forgotten. At least he was able to break the glass with one stomp.

The reception was in a small banquet room in a hotel. They had a live band, just because Andie thought a DJ playing recorded music was an abomination. There was eating, some drinking, and a little dancing. After said drinking, House played the piano and sang. Andie joined him for a mock (and mocking) medley of Ashford and Simpson pop-soul-love songs, and then a more heartfelt medley of Marvin Gaye-Tammi Terrell classics. When everyone else had gone, the bandleader sheepishly told Wilson that it was the easiest money they had ever made, seeing as the best man and bride did most of the work.

Catia seemed a little apprehensive when she left the hotel with House, Cuddy, Rachael and Michael. Andie reassured her that she would call every day, and Rachael reminded her that she would be around to help her. Catia left reluctantly, but Andie knew she'd be okay.

Wilson and Andie honeymooned in Florida, making as much use out of their Christmas present from House and Cuddy as possible (between Andie's increasing size and Wilson's bad back, some of the positions simply weren't attainable). They arrived back at the beginning of March, anticipating spring.


	84. Chapter 84

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc**.

The month of March was colder than normal for New Jersey, and there was one significant snowfall. April came and, along with it, spring -- finally. The temperature was in the sixties or seventies the first week, taking what was left of the snow with it.

Easter and Passover were in March that year, and spring break was in mid-April. The Friday before it began, Daniela and Andie were out waiting for the bus, as they did every weekday the children had school. The bus pulled up, and Catia got off.

"Donde esta Raquel?" Daniela asked Catia.

"She wasn't on the bus," Catia commented. "The bus driver said her father picked her up."

"Well, that explains it," Andie replied.

"Pero," Daniela responded, "Doctor Lisa didn't tell me Doctor Greg would be picking up Raquel at school."

"Maybe Greg didn't tell her," Andie offered.

"I'll call them and find out what is going on," Daniela stated.

Andie knew Catia would be uneasy about her friend until this was cleared up, so they went inside the house with Daniela. She called Cuddy, who also didn't know House was going to pick up Rachael. Cuddy paged House and found out he had been in the clinic and hadn't left the hospital since he arrived at ten that morning. She immediately called the police.

The police went to the hospital and talked to House and Cuddy. They told them they had sent detectives to the school to interview the staff. They also told House and Cuddy to go home and wait by the phone. They were in no shape emotionally to drive, so Wilson took them.

Daniela was there with Michael. She offered to stay so they wouldn't have to deal with an active ten-month-old when they had so many other things to cope with. She moved Michael's crib, changing table and a lot of his toys into the guest room with her, and had a friend drop off a suitcase with clothes. Her goal was to make them feel like Michael was completely safe and taken care of, so they could focus on whatever was happening with Rachael. It also gave her something to do so she wouldn't have to dwell on what might be happening with her precious Raquel.

Her friend who had dropped off her clothes, Amaya, offered to stay in case Daniela needed a break. Andie had met Amaya a few times and offered a place next door for her to stay. Andie also welcomed the help with Catia. She hoped it would free her to assist Lisa as needed.

Andie had wanted to stay with Lisa, but Catia was terrified and on the verge of a meltdown, and Andie didn't want House and Cuddy to see that, given their own fragile states. They went next door and helped Amaya settle into their guest room.

Wilson remained with House and Cuddy.

"Do you think we'll get a ransom call?" Cuddy asked.

House heard the expectation in Cuddy's voice. The situation was so dire that they actually wanted it to be a kidnapping for ransom. The other possibilities were even worse to contemplate.

"We're not visible enough or wealthy enough for that," House observed. As usual, his honesty trumped his ability to offer comfort.

"Well then why would anyone take her?" Cuddy asked in both fear and frustration.

"Catia said the school thought her father had picked her up," Wilson said, remembering something Andie had told him earlier.

House whipped out his cell phone and called the detective on the case. "You're looking for Simon Fielding . . . he's Rachael's birth father . . . no, we don't have a picture . . . his parents might . . . I don't know their names . . . "

Cuddy grabbed the phone. "Their names are Jane and Owen. As of five years ago, they lived in Princeton. No, I don't have a phone number."

House could hear both the hope and the increasing hysteria in Cuddy's voice. He took the phone away from her and went into their bedroom.

"Why did the school let him take her?" House asked angrily.

"They said they had never seen you," the detective replied, "So they didn't know it wasn't you."

"Well, they know my wife," House stated. "Did they really think she'd be married to a twenty-two year-old-with a seven year-old kid?"

"The description they gave us of the man that took your daughter was middle-aged, with some gray hair, walking with a cane," the detective informed him.

"Either her birth father is a master of disguise," House surmised, "Or he has an accomplice."

"We're assuming it's an accomplice," the detective said.

"Is that good or bad?" House asked.

"It depends," the detective said. "If the accomplice is a little older and calmer, he might be helpful keeping Fielding in check. If he's more volatile . . . "

House swallowed hard. "Why would someone help him?"

"One of two reasons," the detective informed him. "Either he's a really close friend who thinks that Fielding is doing the right thing, which, given the apparent differences in their ages isn't likely, or Fielding lied to him to get his help, he thinks it's a kidnapping and he's in it for a cut of the money."

"They haven't made a ransom call," House observed. "And we both know this isn't for ransom. Assuming the accomplice is in it for the money, what happens when he figures out that Fielding isn't?"

"That may or may not be good," the detective stated. "When the accomplice figures it out, he may to go to the cops to cooperate in the hopes of getting a lighter sentence."

"Is that really likely?" House asked skeptically. As much as he wanted it to be true, he wasn't going to get through this by unquestioningly believing best-case scenarios.

"It's happened," the detective said. "Listen, I have to go. I'll keep you posted, and you let us know if you get any calls."

"Okay," House responded.

House's mind kept coming back to how easy it was for them to get Rachael at school. Why did she go with this guy? He must have either threatened or tricked her. House knew she was an intelligent girl, but she was still only seven and could be intimidated or deceived.

His mind kept coming back to another thing the detective said. The school let this guy take her because the people at the school had never seen him and didn't know what he really looked like. _Damn. Am I that uninvolved in my daughter's life?_ House questioned himself. If he had showed up at the school even once, this might not have happened. He could feel the guilt flooding into him. _No time for that now_, he thought as he pushed the feelings away.

He went back out into the family room.

"What did he say?" Cuddy asked, her panic continuing to rise. She was barely holding it together, and when it got dark and bedtime approached without Rachael at home, House was sure Cuddy would be close to hysterical. He made a mental note to call Foreman and have him bring a sedative.

"I asked the cop why the school let him take her, " House said. "They told me the people at the school said she went with a middle-aged man with graying hair. So, they think he has an accomplice."

"What?" Cuddy stammered. It was obvious the more they talked about it, the more the reality was sinking in, and the worse she was going to get.

"Is that good or bad?" Wilson asked, trying to help Cuddy formulate the question.

"Well," House answered, "The cop said if he was older and less emotional than Fielding, he could be a steadying influence."

Wilson knew enough not to ask what would happen if the other guy wasn't less emotional.

Cuddy got up and started to pace. House knew that this would drive him crazy after a short time, but he decided Cuddy needed some sort of physical activity, some motion to keep herself together in the most minimal way.

"Wilson . . . " House began as he pulled his friend aside in the kitchen.

"I'll stay here until midnight, or a little later" Wilson said, clearly anticipating House's request, "But I have to go home and be with Andie and Catia for at least part of the night."

"Understood," House acknowledged with a nod. "I'm going to call Foreman and see if he can bring a sedative for Cuddy."

"Let me handle it," Wilson said. He went into the dining room.

House watched Cuddy. She had stopped pacing and had collapsed into a chair. She had her head in her hands, so her face was covered. House didn't think she was crying, but he knew it wouldn't be long before she did.

Wilson emerged from the dining room. "It's all taken care of," he told House. "Chase will be here in about an hour."

"Chase?" House questioned. "I thought I told you I wanted Foreman."

"You did," Wilson replied. "But any doctor can bring the meds, and I thought you'd be more comfortable with Chase staying here than Foreman."

"Why did you ask him to stay here?" House asked, not even trying to conceal the irritation in his voice.

"Because I can't," Wilson responded. "And I don't want you two to be alone."

"We're okay," House offered, "Besides, Daniela is here."

"You are NOT okay," Wilson stated,. "And Daniela is taking care of Michael. And, she's just as upset about this as you are!"

"How can she be? " House asked angrily. "It's not her kid!"

"No," Wilson admitted. "But she takes care of her every day. She probably spends more hours with her than you do."

"God dammit!" House was almost shouting. "I don't need another person telling me what a crappy father I am."

"I didn't say you were a crappy father," Wilson said, trying his best to placate House "And who said you were?"

"Well, you're telling me her nanny spends more time with her than I do, and the school gave her to a perfect stranger because they've never seen me," House said with resignation in his voice. "If that doesn't make me a crappy dad, I don't know what does."

"Oh my God," Wilson exclaimed. "You can't possibly be blaming yourself for this. Her birth father is a selfish, screwed-up asshole who decides to rip his biological child out of the only home she's ever known, a home where she is obviously deeply loved, just to satisfy his own narcissism. That isn't your fault!"

"Don't you get it? " House asked, his voice shaking with emotion. "If I had gotten my sorry ass to the school even once, they would have known what I looked like, and they wouldn't have let them take her!"

"Wait," Wilson said, "You've been to her school. Didn't you go with Cuddy to her teacher conference last fall?"

"Just once," House admitted.

"Knowing you, I bet you made quite an impression," Wilson stated.

"Yeah," House said. "But the people in the front office are the ones that let them take her, not the teacher."

"So, you have to be on a first-name basis with every school official, secretary and janitor there, or you're somehow an inadequate father?" Wilson asked. "That's ridiculous and you know it. I'm the one who's supposed to wallow in pseudo-guilt, not you."

House looked down, unable to meet Wilson's eyes.

"Listen," Wilson said softly, "I know this is every parent's worst nightmare, but, as tempting as it is to blame yourself so you can feel some kind of control, it just won't help. At all."

Since House still couldn't look at Wilson, Wilson decided his message must be getting through, at least a little. "Let's go check on Cuddy."

When they got back to the living room, Cuddy was back to pacing. "Why doesn't somebody call?" Her voice was almost pleading.

"I'm sure they call as soon as they find out anything," Wilson said, trying to be reassuring.

House just wasn't capable of providing reassurance. His mind tripped to all those cases he'd heard about where the child was gone for years, or was never found. God, what they do if that happened? What would happen to his and Cuddy's relationship? How would it affect Michael? The enormity of what was happening to them was finally hitting him. House was staring down an abyss.


	85. Chapter 85

A/N: Today is my birthday. You don't want to know how old I am. Here's a hint: I was born in the same year as Hugh Laurie. My children were home from school for the holiday (it's Veteran's Day in the US), so I wasn't sure if I would finish this chapter today. Anyway, here is my gift for my readers. Enjoy!

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

Everyone jumped when the doorbell rang. Wilson went to the door and let Chase in. He knew enough not to bring in his bag containing a change of clothes for the morning. Since he had only talked to Wilson, he wasn't sure he was staying. He didn't want to upset Cuddy or get House angry with him.

He also didn't know how they wanted to handle the sedative. Did Cuddy know about it? Had she agreed to it? Were they going to have to use some ruse to get her to take it? Chase was pretty sure House and Wilson hadn't thought ahead that far.

"Why are you here?" Cuddy asked when she saw Chase. It disturbed Chase to see how distraught and confused she was. He was used to her being the one that was in control, who kept her head in a crisis. Given what was happening, her current state was understandable, but it still shook him.

"He's going to stay after I go home," Wilson told her quietly.

"Why are you leaving?" Cuddy asked fearfully.

"I have to go home and be with my family," Wilson said gently. "They need me, too."

"Family . . . " Cuddy choked. "My little girl . . . " Her shoulders started to shake, a little at first, and then more violently. House was over to her side in a flash. He didn't say anything in the way of comfort, because there wasn't anything except platitudes to say. But, when he pulled her into his arms, she felt the only comfort he was capable of giving. She took it almost greedily as she clung tightly to him.

Her pain hit with gale force. She was sobbing with such intensity that she was having trouble breathing. House rubbed her back and made soothing noises in an attempt to calm her down enough for her to be able to take in at least a small amount of air.

After a few moments, it seemed to be working. She was still crying copiously, but she seemed able to breathe.

Chase pulled Wilson aside. "You asked me to bring a sedative for Cuddy. Does she know about this? Did she ask for it? If not, how are we going to give it to her?"

Wilson's head started to spin. He hadn't thought about any of this, and, if he hadn't, he was positive House hadn't, either. Suddenly, House said something that completely surprised Wilson.

"Cuddy," House began, "I think you're going to need some sleep."

"How can you possibly expect me to do that now?" Cuddy asked in a desperate voice.

"I don't," House stated. "At least not without some help."

"Are you going to drug me?" Cuddy asked fearfully.

"Not without your consent," House replied calmly. "I don't think being awake and distraught all night will help you, will help _us_, Cuddy. I'd like to give you something to help you sleep for a while."

"But what if something happens while I'm asleep?" she asked.

"We both know it's pretty unlikely anything will happen until the morning," House stated. "And we won't give you so much that we can't wake you up if we need to, okay?"

"Okay," Cuddy agreed. She was just too upset and exhausted to do otherwise.

Wilson was impressed with both House's ability to persuade Cuddy and his obvious unwillingness to do anything without her agreement. He supposed it went back to the infarction and Stacey having House's leg operated on without his consent.

"I have it here," Chase interjected, holding up a syringe. "Whenever you're ready."

Cuddy excused herself. First, she went to the guest room to say goodnight to Daniela and Michael. Next, she went to their bedroom to get ready for bed. After a few minutes in the bathroom and a few more minutes for her to get changed, she called from the bedroom.

House limped in, finding her lying in bed. Wilson and Chase hovered outside the door, trying not to listen and failing miserably.

House thought he would just say a quick goodnight. Cuddy had other ideas.

"House, what are we going to do?" she asked tearfully.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "We've already done everything we can. I guess we'll just have to wait."

"For how long?" Cuddy asked.

"I don't know that, either," House said. He didn't want to share his earlier revelation that it might be years, or, even worse.

"What if we never see her again?" Cuddy whispered, her eyes unable to hide her anguish.

"Don't do that," House said.

"But you know that's a possibility," Cuddy reminded him.

"I know," he responded. "And I know dwelling on the worst case is not helpful. I also know that even if we get Rachael back tomorrow, this will be the hardest thing we've ever had to deal with."

"I know that, too," Cuddy acknowledged in her softest voice. "Promise you'll stay with me?"

"As long as you'll have me," House replied. House leaned down to brush his lips against Cuddy's.

Their kiss began as a soft, tender one and, as it continued, it became more and more desperately passionate.

Wilson and Chase became uncomfortable. Wilson finally cleared his throat. House and Cuddy broke the kiss and remained touching foreheads for a few seconds.

"Ready?" House asked.

"Yes," Cuddy answered softly.

Chase came in and put his supplies on the nightstand next to the bed. He put on some gloves, opened the alcohol wipe and swabbed Cuddy's arm. He checked the syringe for air bubbles and looked into Cuddy's eyes one more time to make sure she was ready. He gently inserted the syringe into her arm and emptied its contents. He took the packet and the used wipe, and he put the syringe in a sharps container he had brought with him. He removed his gloves, picked up the container and left the room.

House slid up on the bed and put his arms around Cuddy as she fell asleep. He emerged in the hallway a few minutes later to find Chase and Wilson waiting for him.

"I have to go now," Wilson informed them.

"Let me just put this in my car and get my bag," Chase requested as he headed toward the front door.

"Tell me again why he's staying?" House asked.

"Because he's worried about you and Cuddy and he needs to do something to help," Wilson confessed. He hoped that since it wasn't a complete falsehood, and it afforded House the chance to keep some self-respect, that House wouldn't give him too much of a hard time.

House was too tired and strung out to argue any more. He suspected Wilson was giving him a fig leaf for his dignity, but he decided to take it. "Okay," House conceded, "If it helps the wombat . . . "

Chase returned carrying his bag.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Wilson said. He wanted to give House a reassuring hug, but he was positive that House wouldn't want that in front of Chase. So, he was shocked when House pulled him in for an awkward embrace. He returned it by patting House on the back. For once in his life, Wilson didn't feel the need to comment. He left without a word.

"I'll get you some bedding for the fold-out couch," House told Chase. House limped toward the linen closet in the powder room and returned carrying a pile of bedclothes.

"Do you want me to help you make the bed?" House asked.

"I may just sleep on the couch, so don't bother with that now," Chase informed him as he took the linens and put them on one of the chairs.

"Are you ready to go to sleep?" House asked.

"Not really," Chase replied. He was tired, but he thought House might not want to go to bed yet, and he was determined to stay up with him.

House flopped on the couch, picked up the remote and began flipping through the channels. Chase sat down, giving House what he thought was a comfortable amount of personal space.

"Friday night TV sucks," House proclaimed as he shut off the TV and tossed the remote on to the end table next to him.

Chase was about to suggest they watch the news when he realized there was probably an Amber Alert for Rachael, and that House wouldn't want to take a chance that he might see that.

An awkward silence followed. Chase was tempted to fill the quiet with small talk, but he knew House hated it. "Listen," he began. "I have two kids and I think I can relate a little to the hell you must be going through. I also know it isn't good, especially for you, to bottle this stuff up inside. I can't do much for you. But, if you want to talk, I'll listen."

"Well, I see you got through Confession 101 before you dropped out of the seminary," House snarked. "Expecting me to break down and spill my guts?"

"Only if that's what you want," Chase told him. "Or, if you just want to talk, that would be okay, too."

"I told Cuddy there's nothing to be done," House responded, "And I'm telling you there's nothing to talk about."

"I think there's plenty to talk about," Chase countered.

"What? My feeeelings?" House sneered, extending the vowel in derision.

"Well," Chase said, ignoring House's tone, "That might be important for someone with a history of denying his emotions and ending up in a mental hospital as a result."

"I went to Mayfield because I was hallucinating due to Vicodin abuse," House argued.

"Yeah, and the severe depression you had because of Amber's death, Wilson leaving and Kutner's death had nothing to do with it," Chase argued back.

"All I know is that once I detoxed, the hallucinations went away," House stated.

"And you were completely cured," Chase came back. "You didn't need to stay in the hospital after that, or see a therapist or take any meds."

"I still had some issues," House admitted reluctantly, "But that was five years ago."

"Yes, and you've been the model of being in touch with your feelings since then," Chase responded.

"Hey," House said, actually sounding a little wounded. "I know I'll never be the poster child for mental health, but I'm doing better."

"You were, until this terrible thing happened," Chase said. "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't try to ignore it or stuff it down, or you could have problems again."

"Okay," House acknowledged. "But I'll talk to my shrink, not you."

"Fair enough," Chase conceded. Chase wondered how long it would be before House decided to talk to his psychiatrist, and if he would avoid it by never getting to it, but he decided not to push any further, at least for now.

There were a few more minutes of awkward silence. Chase got an idea. He was pretty sure House wouldn't go along with it. In fact, he was pretty sure House would mock him for it, but Chase knew it would make him feel better, and maybe it just might do something for House.

"You said we couldn't do anything," Chase stated. "But, you're wrong. There is something we can do."

"What?" House asked, sounding at least the slightest bit interested. Chase thought House was probably just looking for a diversion, but he took the opportunity he was given, anyway.

"I'm going to pray," Chase informed House.

"What?" House asked again, this time with incredulity straining his voice. "How is talking to the imaginary Flying Spaghetti Monster going to accomplish anything?"

"I don't know," Chase admitted. "I just know it helps me."

"Well, since this is all about _you_, then go ahead," House snarked.

"Okay," Chase said quietly. He moved closer to House on the couch, folded his hands in his lap, closed his eyes put his head down slightly. "Heavenly Father, we ask that you protect your precious daughter Rachael tonight. Please keep her safe from pain and harm. Please let her remember that no matter how frightened she is, she has a family that will never stop searching for her and will do anything to get her back. And let that knowledge comfort and sustain her through her trials. And please, please return her to us as the same beautiful, open, caring girl she was when she was taken away. We need her very much. And we love her more than we can say." Chase's voice choked as he finished and a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He kept is eyes closed and didn't move, bracing himself for some sarcasm from House, or at best, silence.

Instead, he heard ragged breathing. He wasn't sure what was going on, until he started to hear what sounded like a sob. Because of his surprise, he opened his eyes and looked at House. House's hands were covering his eyes and his shoulders were heaving.

Chase hesitated. He thought it was probably good for House to be able to express his pain, and Chase didn't want to do anything to stop that. But he also thought House, despite his denials, was a human being, and he needed to be comforted. So, Chase eased slowly closer to House and carefully put his arms around him. At first, House didn't respond. He simply kept crying into his hands. Finally, Chase felt House's arms drop and House put his face into Chase's shoulder.

Chase was amazed that House was able to do this. He was astonished when House actually put his arms around him. Chase sat stock still for a while. It took him a moment to realize that he had begun rocking House in his arms, just the way he did Randy and Lyla when they were crying.

After several minutes, House's sobs quieted down. He pulled away from Chase and abruptly pushed himself off the couch. Chase thought he heard House say he was going to get some tissues. Chase leaned back against the couch, completely drained.

When House returned, his eyes were red and swollen. "I think I'm going to bed now," he announced to Chase. "Do you want any help with the sofa bed?"

"I'll figure it out," Chase responded. "Or not. No big deal."

House turned to head toward his bedroom. "Thanks," he said so softly over his shoulder that if Chase hadn't been extremely quiet, he would have missed it.

Chase got up, opened the sofa bed and put the sheets, blanket and pillows on. He took his bag and went into the bathroom between Rachael's and Michael's rooms and got ready for bed. He came out in sleep pants and a t-shirt and got into the bed. He reached for his pants and fished out his cell phone.

"Hi," he said as she picked up the phone. "I hope I'm not calling too late."

"How are they?" Cameron asked.

"Cuddy needed the sedative to go to sleep," Chase replied, "Although she took it willingly, so I guess that's positive."

"What about House?" Cameron questioned.

"Well," Chase paused, wondering how much detail House would want disclosed about his emotional meltdown, "He's putting up a brave front for Cuddy, but he's a wreck just like she is."

"Well, that's to be expected," Cameron responded.

Chase breathed a sigh of relief when Cameron didn't push for particulars. He wasn't trying to exclude her, but he felt a strange need to protect House's privacy. He wasn't sure if that was his seminary training about the sanctity of the confessional, or his medical training regarding doctor-patient confidentiality, but he would have felt uncomfortable sharing too many details about House's behavior that night to Cameron.

"I don't know when they'll be up tomorrow, so I'd better get some rest," Chase told her.

"I'll hold down the fort," Cameron reassured him. "I love you."

"Kiss the kids for me," Chase responded. "I love you, too."

They said goodnight and hung up. Chase eased himself under the covers. He fell asleep wondering what he was facing the next day. Whatever it was, he was sure it would be tough. But he loved House and Cuddy, and he was willing to do whatever he could to help them.


	86. Chapter 86

A/N: Thanks to amanda47 for inspiring some of the ideas in this chapter.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

When Chase went to sleep, he wondered if the early morning light would wake him, since there were a lot of windows in the family room, and there were no curtains or blinds. With the change to Daylight Saving Time, and the days not being quite long enough yet, it was still fairly dark well into the first morning hours. So, he wasn't awakened by the sun, but by the doorbell. As he sleepily made his way to the front of the house, he didn't know how he should feel. If it was just Wilson here to check up on everyone, that was okay, but if it was the cops, well, that could either be really good or really bad.

He easily beat a still-sedated Cuddy and a limping House to the front door. He was totally surprised by who was waiting outside.

"Mr. Cuddy," Chase addressed the person standing on the porch. The puzzled look on Cuddy's father's face let him know that Bill didn't remember him. "I'm Robert Chase. I work for your daughter and I'm friends with her and House. Come in."

"Why are you here?" Bill asked as he came through the door into the hallway.

"He's babysitting us," House informed his father-in-law as he limped into the foyer.

"Greg," Bill began, "I'm sorry I wasn't here last night but Judith and I were out late with friends and when we got home, we went to bed before we watched the news. I came over as soon as I saw the alert on the TV this morning. What the hell is going on?"

House heard the anger in Bill's voice. He wasn't surprised. Bill was probably pissed that they hadn't called him and told him. If they hadn't had to go through Bill's bitch of a wife, maybe they would have, but there was no way House was going to let Cuddy deal with Judith the Evil One when she was in such a fragile emotional state. "Listen, I'm sorry we didn't call you personally, but we got caught up in everything that was happening and, besides . . . "

"You didn't want Lisa to have to interact with her mother," Bill completed the sentence. His anger seemed to dissipate. "Listen, I'm going to give you my cell number. You can program it into your phone and Lisa's phone. That way, you can contact me without the . . . difficulty."

"Sounds like a plan," House agreed. "Come back to the kitchen."

"What _is_ going on?" Bill asked as they walked through the family room.

"We don't know much more than you do at this point, " House replied. "She was taken from school yesterday by someone posing as her father. We think her birth father has her."

"Wait a minute," Bill said, his anger returning. "How stupid are the people at that school that they couldn't tell the difference between a fifty-something man and a twenty-two year old kid?"

"Well, he was smart enough not to try to pick up Rachael himself," House responded. "According to the people at the school, she was picked by a middle-aged man who was using a cane."

"I'm confused," Bill confessed. "If this guy picked her up, why do you think her birth father has her?"

"No one else has any reason to take her," House answered.

"Well, then who is this guy who took her?" Bill questioned.

"The cops think he's an accomplice," House replied.

"Who would help someone with a child abduction?" Bill asked.

"Either a friend of his, which isn't likely," House responded, "Or Fielding told this guy it was a kidnapping and that they would have ransom money to split."

"Isn't the accomplice going to figure out pretty quickly that it isn't a kidnapping when they don't call you?" Bill asked. "What's going to happen then?"

"The cops tried to convince me the guy would turn himself in an attempt to get a lighter sentence, but I doubt that," House stated with brutal honesty. "I don't want to think about what will happen otherwise."

Bill shuddered. "Anything else?"

House was relieved that Bill either hadn't picked up on, or decided not to ask about the fact that the school couldn't tell the guy who picked up Rachael wasn't actually House. If it came up later, House would deal with it then. "No, we're waiting to hear from the cops."

"Is there anything I can do?" Bill asked finally.

"I think it will help Cuddy to see you here," House answered. If there was something that could be done, House would already have done it, anyway.

Bill still hadn't gotten completely used to his daughter's husband referring to her by his surname, but he received the message in spite of that. "Okay, I'll be here for her."

House hadn't noticed, but Chase had gotten in the shower and was dressed. He had folded up the sofa bed and was in the kitchen looking in the cupboards for coffee. He found the bag and the filters and was filling the carafe.

"Cameron has you well-trained," House commented sarcastically as he observed Chase's domestic skills.

"Good thing for you," Chase replied.

Before House had the chance to make another comment, there was a knock on the front door. Wilson had let himself in and appeared in the family room. He made his way toward the kitchen.

"No more news, I'm assuming?" Wilson asked House. He acknowledged Cuddy's father. "Hello, Bill. Lisa is going to need you. It's good that you're here."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," House snarked.

Chase was relieved by House's behavior. After last night, it was good to see a bit of the old, nasty House. Chase wasn't sure how much of it was just a front, but it made him feel like House wasn't completely lost, so he decided to take it at face value, at least for now.

"I'm going to head to the shower." House announced as he limped toward the bedroom.

Cuddy woke up as House entered the bedroom. He went to the bed. "How are you feeling?" Of course, with House, this wasn't small talk or being polite. He wanted to know how Cuddy was dealing with the sedative, and her emotional state.

"I'm still a little foggy," Cuddy replied. "Did we hear anything?"

"Not yet," House replied. "I'm heading into the shower and then I'm going to get dressed. Your father is here, why don't you go out and see him?"

"Okay," Cuddy said numbly as she reached for her robe and got out of bed.

House took a quick shower, got dried off and dressed. He had just taken his pain meds when his cell phone rang. He grabbed it off the nightstand, checked the caller id and flipped it open immediately, "House."

"Doctor House, " the voice on the other end of the phone said, "This is Detective Parsons. I just wanted to update you on a few things."

"Go ahead," House said as his heart started pounding in his chest.

"We interviewed Fielding's parents late last night," Parsons began, "And they claim not to know anything about his whereabouts. That may very well be true, if either he did this on his own, or if they're helping him somehow and he wants to protect them. They gave us a picture of him. We didn't get much more out of them."

"Can I ask you something?" House interrupted.

"Sure," Parsons replied.

"Did they say anything about why Fielding would do this now?" Among all the other things House had been pondering, this was on the list.

"We didn't specifically ask them that," Parsons responded. "They did say he was home at the holidays and had to get a copy of his birth certificate from the county clerk's office for a job he was applying for. He came back furious because he had found out by looking through court records that you had adopted Rachael."

House figured that Fielding wanted to kidnap Rachael around the time of a school vacation so it would look less obvious when he was traveling with a school-age child. It probably took Fielding a while to set everything up, figure out Rachael's routine, plan his escape route, find an accomplice and convince him to help Fielding, etc. If he had hatched this scheme around the holidays, it was too much to get done by the winter break, so the spring break was his next opportunity.

House also knew now what had set Fielding off over four years after he lost the court case and Cuddy adopted Rachael. Fielding must have somehow kept the hope alive, despite the reality to the contrary, that he would be Rachael's father some day. Once House adopted her and she officially had a father, he must have been forced to admit to himself it would never happen. Hence, this desperate, stupid and destructive act.

House's curiosity about Fielding's motivation and timing was satisfied. Unfortunately, that did nothing to get Rachael home any sooner. "What else?"

"We got the Amber Alert going and put out his picture," Parsons informed him. "We did have a report of a man and child fitting their description checking out of a hotel near Baltimore this morning."

"So, he's taking the I-95 south," House reasoned. "What about the accomplice?"

"He wasn't with them, apparently," Parsons stated.

"Well, where do you think he is?" House asked.

"We don't know," Parsons answered vaguely.

"Well, he obviously didn't turn himself in the way you said he might," House surmised quickly. "Would he just walk away? Would Fielding let him?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone as Parsons didn't answer.

"Did Fielding kill him?" House asked, trying to fight down his panic.

"We have no evidence of that," Parsons stated.

"But you think that's what happened, don't you?" House pressed him for an answer.

"It seems the mostly likely scenario," Parsons admitted reluctantly.

Once House considered the awful implications, he wondered why he had pushed so hard to know. He had to make sure he didn't tell Cuddy any of this. If he was lucky, she would focus on the fact that that Rachael had been seen somewhere and not remember anything about the accomplice. He'd keep his fingers crossed on that one.

"Doctor House," Detective Parsons sharply cut into his reverie, "I'm getting a call on the other line. I promise I'll keep you posted."

"Thanks," House said as he hung up. _Shit_ House thought as he realized he was going to have to give the new information to Cuddy in front of Chase, Wilson and Cuddy's father. If any of them asked about the accomplice, he'd have to lie or omit, and Cuddy would surely pick up on that. He hoped no one would ask, or that if they did he could lie about it because she was too foggy and distraught to have her usually pin-point accurate radar kick in. Might as well get this over with.

When House emerged from the bedroom, Wilson and Chase were making breakfast while Bill and Cuddy sat at the dinette table sipping coffee. They weren't saying much to each other, but Bill was holding Cuddy's hand.

"I just spoke to the detective," House announced to the group. Chase and Wilson stopped what they were doing to listen as House made his way to the table where Cuddy and Bill sat. "They got a picture of Fielding from his parents and put that out along with an Amber Alert. The cops have a report that the two of them were spotted leaving a hotel in Baltimore.

"Did his parents have any idea where he might be taking her?" Cuddy asked.

_Good_, House thought, _she's focusing on that and not the accomplice_. "The cop said they said they didn't know, and he seemed to believe them."

"They could be lying!" Cuddy exclaimed in frustration.

"They could," House agreed, "But they also may not know anything about it. Or Fielding may intentionally be withholding that from them to protect them."

"That's it?" Cuddy asked, completely aggravated by the lack of news or progress.

"Yes," House replied, hoping he was convincing.

"Well, at least they've seen Rachael and they have a direction where he might be taking her," Bill interjected, hoping to soothe his daughter a little.

"That's not enough!" Cuddy exclaimed.

"It's all we have right now, dear," Bill responded.

Cuddy looked down at her coffee and sighed. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"It's okay, Lisa," Bill responded. "I know you're upset."

When Cuddy said nothing else, House breathed a sigh of relief. He saw both Chase and Wilson looking at him and he knew they figured out there was something more. He shot them a "Please don't ask in front of Cuddy" look, and hoped they got it. He knew they understood when they went back to working on breakfast.

After breakfast, Cuddy excused herself to take a shower. They waited until they heard the water running.

"What else?" Wilson asked.

"You remember I said the cops had a report of people who looked like Fielding and Rachael coming out of a hotel in Baltimore?" House asked. After the other three nodded, he continued, "Well, that means the accomplice wasn't with them."

"What happened to him?" Bill asked.

"The cops are pretty sure Fielding killed him," House answered.

"Dear God!" Chase exclaimed, as all three men blanched.

"Cuddy knows about the accomplice and she might remember to ask about him," House stated. "If she does, I'll tell her the truth. But if she doesn't, I'm not going to say anything, and neither should you. Got it?"

The other men, recognizing how upsetting this would be for Cuddy, readily agreed.

Cuddy emerged from the bedroom, showered and dressed, and still looking totally distressed. She poured herself another cup of coffee and sat back down at the kitchen table with Bill.

"You don't need any more caffeine," House admonished her as she began sipping the coffee.

"This is the second pot," Chase informed them. "It's decaf."

If Cuddy was wondering what happened to Simon's accomplice, she kept those thoughts to herself.

The rest of the day was given over to activity of all kinds. House spent his time on his Playstation, getting to the highest levels on the three new games he had purchased the previous weekend. Wilson cleaned everything, even if it already was clean. Chase did laundry and put away all the clothes. He wasn't sure he was doing it the way Cuddy would want him to, but he was not going to upset her by asking her, especially when it came to Rachael's clothes. Bill decided the yard needed work, and raked the leaves left over from the winter, mowed the lawn and trimmed the shrubs. Daniela gave Michael to Amaya to take care of, so she could reorganize his room. She took all the clothes that he had outgrown out of the closets and drawers and packed them in boxes to be donated to charity. She did the same with his toys. Next door, Catia decided to clean up her room, and also of rid of clothes and toys she no longer used. Andie cooked up a storm, making enough for two large families for at least a week. She put it all in containers and then put some in her freezer in the basement and some in Cuddy's freezer. Cuddy had planned to be home for at least the beginning of the week since Rachael was on vacation, so she had brought home a pile of paperwork. She completed it and got through most of her e-mails. And none of that frantic activity kept any of them from thinking about Rachael or waiting anxiously for House's cell to ring.

At about four in the afternoon, Detective Parsons called. He said they had a general idea where Fielding and Rachael might be, and they hoped that something would break when Fielding stopped at a hotel for the night. They had found a body in a dumpster near the hotel in Baltimore where they thought Fielding and Rachael had stayed. They hadn't identified it yet, but since it was the body of a tall, thin, middle-aged man with gray-brown hair, they were fairly certain it was Fielding's accomplice. He had been shot multiple times in the chest at close range. They had pictures of the body and were going to contact officials at the school tomorrow to see if they could identify him. Again, House decided that unless Cuddy asked, he would say nothing about the accomplice.

Andie came over with dinner. They sat around the dining room table and ate in silence -- a first for that household. Catia had been assigned the task of setting the table, and she had left a place for her best friend. Everyone at some point during the meal stole a glance at the empty spot.

After dinner, Andie, Catia and Amaya went next door. Bill left, telling Cuddy he would return in the morning. Daniela got Michael ready for bed and brought him into the guest room with her.

"Are you staying another night, or should I stay?" Wilson asked Chase.

"I can do one more night," Chase stated. "I'll have to go home tomorrow night because of the work week starting."

"Yeah," Wilson said, "I have to figure out how I'm going to handle the working thing, too. I'm even less sure what House and Cuddy are going to do."

"If there was some definitive end to this, that would be one thing," Chase said. "The problem is that it can drag on . . . for years."

"I'll pray to the Hebrew G*d, and you pray to Jesus that that doesn't happen, okay?" Wilson asked, trying to sound like he was making a joke, but managing to sound desperate instead.

"I'd like to tell you that as a former seminarian, I have a direct pipeline to the Almighty," Chase conceded, "But, if what I've prayed for versus what has happened to me is any guide, God has been really pissed at me since I was a kid." When Chase saw Wilson's puzzled look, he continued, "He certainly doesn't seem to fulfill my requests."

"Well, don't expect me to get what I want," Wilson said, "The Jews invented G*d, or, at least, monotheism. And what has their reward been? To wander to the ends of the earth asking for little more than haven and the opportunity to worship, and they've been vilified and murdered for five thousand years."

"And been beaten up in parking garages," Chase noted. "So, what's the point in us praying then?"

"It makes us feel like we're doing something?" Wilson ventured with hesitation.

"I guess," Chase conceded.

"I just hope something happens by the time Cuddy is planning to return to work on Tuesday," Wilson stated. "Because if she has to go back to her old routine, as though nothing is wrong . . . "

"I know," Chase responded.

They followed the same process they had the previous night, with Chase giving Cuddy a sedative and Wilson leaving after that. House stayed up with Chase for a while, noting that TV on Saturday night sucked even more than TV on Friday night.

"What are you going to do if this drags on?" Chase asked after House turned off the TV.

"I have no idea," House replied honestly. "We'll fall into some sort of warped schedule, I guess. . . "

"Pretending to get on with your lives, when you really can't?" Chase questioned.

"Something like that," House sighed. "I used to think the infarction was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. Then, when I had my family, I thought my wife or one of my kids dying would be the worst thing. Just my execrable luck to encounter something even worse."

"At least you still have some hope in this situation," Chase said, trying to be positive.

"And hope is what's going to kill us," House responded.


	87. Chapter 87

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

House woke up to find himself in a strange place. He was lying down on a bed of some sort. He heard voices and kept his eyes closed.

"Former patent?" a male voice asked "Once they've been here, they just can't stay away."

"Well, this guy had a pretty good run," A female voice countered, "He was out for fifteen years."

"Yeah, that is pretty good," the male voice agreed. "That's too long for a relapse of the original condition, so what brought him back?"

"He was living on the streets, apparently, and got beaten up rather badly. They brought him into an ER. He was hospitalized for a while until his most critical injuries were taken care of, and then they shipped him here. He's been talking to people who weren't there since he regained consciousness."

"How does a homeless guy afford this place?" the male voice inquired.

"His ex-wife is Dean of Medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro," the female voice explained.

"My ex-wife wouldn't do anything like that for me," the male voice snorted. "Besides, what are they going to do with him anyway? His liver's shot; he doesn't have more than a couple of months."

"Maybe his ex didn't want him dying on the street," the female voice guessed. "She's been to see him when she brings the son for therapy with Nolan."

"I heard about that," the male voice said. "Nolan actually came out of retirement to treat the kid?"

"Well," the female voice said, "It isn't very often that you see a ten-year-old with that many problems – depression, hallucinations, substance abuse."

"Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," the male voice concluded. "Too bad."

The voices faded as their owners left the room and closed and locked the door behind them. What were they saying about Michael? What had happened to his beautiful baby boy?

House finally opened his eyes. He thought he was alone until he saw a flash of red-blond hair.

"Finally decided to wake up, huh?" Amber asked rhetorically.

"Where am I?" House asked, dread enveloping him as he became aware of her presence.

"Where do you think?" she taunted. "Mayfield, of course."

"How did I wind up here?" House asked. He knew he was talking to a hallucination, but he wanted to know what happened more than cared that it looked crazy.

"You don't remember?" Amber ridiculed him. "It was like the nurse said – you were living on the street and you got into a bad fight. The ambulance brought you to Princeton Plainsboro, where they fixed you up, such as they could, then they brought you here."

"Why was I living on the streets?" House asked fearfully.

"God, how far back are we going to have to go?" Amber questioned with annoyance. "I haven't got all day."

"Late to torment someone else?" House snarked. Even in his mentally hazy state, he could still do that.

"Hey," Amber reminded him, "I'm the one with the answers, if you really want to find out, you'd better be nice to me."

"So, why was I on the street?" House asked again.

"That's where people who are so into drugs and booze and mentally screwed up that they can't function wind up. You honestly don't remember the past ten years?"

"No," House said.

"I'll give you the Reader's Digest version," Amber sighed with boredom. "Rachael was kidnapped and they never found her. Your marriage to Cuddy ended and you moved back into your old apartment. You became more and more depressed, got into more and more drugs and booze. Cuddy got to the point that she couldn't trust you with Michael and had to get sole custody.

"Wilson tried to help you and got so sucked in that Andie had enough and they called it quits. She moved back to upstate New York, and Wilson hardly ever sees his kids. He blamed you, and you haven't been friends for a few years. You became so dysfunctional, you lost your job. You lived off what was left of your savings, but it didn't go far because you were spending it all on drugs. After a while, you couldn't pay your rent and got evicted. That's when you wound up on the streets."

"I'm at Mayfield?" House asked.

"When you came into the ER at Princeton-Plainsboro you were in pretty terrible shape – drugged out, beaten to a pulp, and filthy," Amber informed him. "Cameron couldn't even get an orderly or a nurse in the same room with you, you smelled so badly. Apparently, you'd gotten into this habit of pissing on yourself. After Cameron cleaned you up personally, they found out you had gangrene in your right foot, going up your leg. They decided to amputate."

House pulled up the blanket and looked down. His leg was gone almost up to his hip. "No," he cried out.

"Doesn't matter anyway," Amber stated emphatically. "You heard what the nurse said. Your liver won't hold up much longer."

"And it's not like they're going to waste a new liver on a loser like you." House looked around and saw John in the room.

"Oh great," House responded. "I've got two months to live and I have to spend it with you."

"Hey, if you'd listened to one thing I told you when you were a kid, you wouldn't have wound up like this," John argued. "But, no, you had to be the rebel, you had to do drugs and get in trouble all the time. You took risk after risk. You pushed away everyone that ever cared about you. Well, you're finally getting what you deserve. To die alone, in pain, and abandoned in the loony bin. You're a pathetic loser. You deserve every bad thing that's ever happened to you."

House was going to protest when he realized John was right. He had had a couple of chances to be truly happy, first with Stacey and then with Cuddy. He'd gotten so close with Cuddy – a loving wife and two beautiful kids, a nice home and his best friend next door who was happy, too. And he'd screwed it up for everyone. He was a miserable, pathetic loser and he didn't deserve to live. He cried out in pain. Then he began sobbing as the magnitude of his loss hit him.

Suddenly, House became aware that someone was shaking him. "House, you're going to wake up Cuddy. Quiet down," Chase said. When House opened his eyes, Chase saw that House had been crying in what must have been a nightmare. "Take it easy," he said more softly, as he tried to comfort House by rubbing his arms.

It took House's confused mind a while to realize he was dreaming. Most of what he dreamed hadn't happened, at least not yet.

"Why don't you get up for a while?" Chase suggested.

House sat up carefully in bed, trying not to disturb Cuddy. He must have been thrashing around in his sleep because his leg was throbbing. He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed. He reached for his pain meds and took one. Chase handed him his cane, and House hobbled slowly out of the room.

House knew it was late. The clock on the microwave confirmed it, with its green glow letting him know it was almost three-thirty.

They couldn't really sit too comfortably in the family room with the couch folded out, and House didn't want to watch TV anyway. They headed toward the library. It was also the room farthest away from Cuddy, so it would be okay if they decided to talk, or so Chase hoped.

"Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?" Chase asked tentatively. He was pretty sure House wouldn't say much, but he thought he'd give him the opportunity to talk, anyway.

"It was a nightmare, it was about my fears, it was scary," House summarized, giving the least amount of detail he possibly could.

Chase sighed. "Listen, I know I'm not your shrink, or Cuddy, or Wilson, but you're going to need to start to talk about this to someone."

"When things are more settled, I will," House said. He hoped Chase wouldn't notice the slight of hand. No such luck.

"When will that be?" Chase asked in frustration. "Do you know? I'm pretty sure no one else does."

"Fine," House conceded. "What exactly do I say to whoever I talk to? Um, there's this terrible situation with my daughter. No, I don't know what's going on. No, I have no idea when it will be over. Yes, I may never know . . . "

"You can tell 'whoever' that," Chase responded.

"And what exactly does that accomplish?" House asked with annoyance.

"I don't know," Chase replied. "There just has to be some way to help you, Cuddy, and Michael."

"Why?" House questioned.

"Because other people have been through what you are going through," Chase answered, "Because there must be some sort of therapy to deal with this by now. Because I want you and Cuddy to get through this and be okay."

"So, your wanting something means it must be true," House stated in a sarcastic voice.

"No," Chase said, "It just has to be."

"Why?" House asked.

"Because I love you both, and I can't stand the thought of you being hurt," Chase admitted.

House sighed and looked around the room. When had Chase made the erroneous decision to love him? Didn't he know it would only hurt him? "You have to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Chase asked.

"Caring about me," House stated bluntly. "Don't you know doing that will bring you pain?"

"Since when has loving anyone ever not brought pain?" Chase asked. "It's the nature of caring about someone."

"I'm telling you that you should stop," House stated firmly.

"You can tell me all you want," Chase responded, "But it's too late." He paused, looking down. "I already love you," he practically whispered.

House sighed. He was too exhausted to continue arguing. "I'm tired."

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep?" Chase asked with concern.

"Who knows?" House replied.

"Would it help to use the sofa bed?" Chase asked. "You have a recliner in the family room, don't you? I could always sleep there."

"The sofa bed would kill my leg," House observed, "And the recliner would seriously screw up your back. Let's both go to our beds."

Chase walked House to the door of his bedroom. "Let me know if you need anything."

Chase was expecting some serious snark from House. Especially after all the discussion of their feelings.

He was more than surprised when House simply said, "I will," and left him standing in the hallway.

Chase returned to the sofa bed, pulled up the covers and went to sleep.

* * *

Just like yesterday, they woke up to Cuddy's father ringing the door bell, followed by Wilson coming over from next door. And just like yesterday, everyone showered, got dressed, ate breakfast and searched desperately for something to do.

Everyone except Chase was puzzled by House's insistence that he take care of Michael. He fed him, got him dressed and took him wherever he went around the house. It was curious enough that it got Cuddy's attention. She was particularly puzzled with his apparent need for physical closeness. House carried Michael when he was walking, and when he was sitting he held Michael on his lap. House also kept kissing him.

"Are you okay?" Cuddy asked House as she entered their bedroom and closed the door. House was sitting on the bed with Michael resting on his good leg. House was flipping through the channels, but it was obvious to anyone looking at him that he didn't care what was on TV.

"Just looking for something to do," House stated vaguely.

Cuddy sat next to them on the bed. She took the remote and turned off the TV. "What's going on with Michael?" Cuddy questioned.

"He's fine," House responded.

"Let me put this another way," Cuddy said, the beginnings of frustration evident in her voice. "What's with _you_ and Michael?"

"What?" House asked.

"You can't let him out of your sight," Cuddy responded, her frustration becoming more visible, "You are holding him constantly, and you keep kissing him."

"It's some sort of problem that I'm kissing my son?" House questioned.

"It's not a problem," Cuddy conceded. "It's just unusual, at least for you."

"I know," House admitted sadly. "Just because I've been such a crappy father doesn't mean I can't at least try to change."

"Wait," Cuddy responded in surprise, "What are talking about? Who said you were a crappy father?"

"Watch this," House said. He bent down to kiss Michael on the lips and there was a resounding smack.

"What?" Cuddy questioned.

"Didn't you see that?" House answered her question with a question. "I kissed him and he kissed me back."

"Weren't you just saying it wasn't a problem when a father kisses his son?" Cuddy inquired, still completely confused.

"It's not the kissing," House stated. "When did he start returning kisses?"

"I don't know," Cuddy replied. "It must have been about two weeks ago."

"My son learns how to kiss back, and I'm completely oblivious." House observed. "That's the problem."

"Oh my God," Cuddy exclaimed as she began to understand what was going on. "House, don't do this."

"Do what?" House asked.

"I'm not exactly sure," Cuddy replied. "But, somehow, you've convinced yourself that you are responsible in some way for what's happening to Rachael . . . to our family."

"If I had been at the school more than just once, maybe they would have noticed that the guy taking her away wasn't her father," House said, finally giving voice to his guilt in front of Cuddy.

"Oh, House," Cuddy sighed. How could he possibly find a way to make himself the cause of this? Rather than try to psychoanalyze him, Cuddy decided to try some logic. "You have a career. You can't just spend hours hanging out at the school so the entire staff gets to know you."

"No," House disagreed, "_You_ have a career. I'm just a doctor with a bizarre practice who spends most of this time playing instead of working. The time I've spent amusing myself should have been spent with my children."

A part of Cuddy wanted to snark that it was about time House admitted how little work he actually did. But she just couldn't do that. Not now. Not when he was blaming himself and hurting so much. It would be like ripping his beating heart out of his chest.

"You and I both know that when you are quote-unquote playing, you are actually thinking about what is wrong with your patient," Cuddy argued. "It's the way that super-intelligent mind of yours solves a puzzle."

"What difference does it make?" House asked with defeat in his voice. "So I save a patient. I can't even save my own daughter. I can't even keep my own son from misery."

"House," Cuddy said, "Michael is ten months old. He's fed, changed, washed, and kept warm in the winter and cool in the summer. He has every toy he could possibly want. He has people all around him who play with him and love him. He is NOT miserable. What the hell are you talking about?"

"We don't know how he'll wind up," House said softly.

"No," Cuddy agreed. "But we have no reason to believe it will be bad."

"I'm his father," House reminded her. "That's a huge negative right off the bat."

"Yes," Cuddy responded. "Poor Michael. Having a handsome, brilliant, accomplished father who can teach him about everything that interests him, including science and music, is terrible. And then there's all the cool stuff like his father knowing how to ride a motorcycle, and liking WWF and monster trucks. Also, his willingness to carry Michael around and kiss him is so unloving. God, House. You're a wonderful father. Why don't you know that?"

"My lack of involvement let him take my baby girl," House admitted, his voice breaking.

Cuddy's eyes filled up when House was speaking aloud about his pain. "No! He's a sociopath who figured out how to exploit our weaknesses. We aren't at fault here. He is."

House was surprised to find tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. He was even more surprised when Michael reached up to his face and touched the tears. "Da-Da," Michael murmured.

House knew he would lose it. He tried to hand Michael to Cuddy. "He shouldn't see me like this," House croaked.

Cuddy refused to take Michael. "Yes, he should. He needs to know how much his father loves his sister . . . how much his father loves him."

With that, the damn burst. House began crying in earnest. He buried his face in the spot where Michael's neck and shoulder joined, drinking in his baby smell. That just made him cry harder as he remembered the times he held Rachael when she was a baby.

Cuddy was crying too. She moved over on the bed and put her arms around both of them. She didn't know how long they cried. She just knew they needed to do it.

* * *

A/N: I hope no one feels I'm prolonging the story, but there's just so much good angst to mine here. I promise something will happen with the kidnapping in the next chapter.


	88. Chapter 88

**Disclaimer: Don't Own Etc.**

They were all sitting around the table finishing lunch when House's cell rang. It was Detective Parsons.

"Doctor House," Parsons stated, "We have your daughter."

"Please repeat that," House requested.

"Your daughter was taken from a hotel room near Charlotte, North Carolina to an area hospital. We need you to come here and get her."

For once, House couldn't slip behind an expressionless mask. Every feeling of fear and relief flooded across his face. "How is she? I mean, what's her medical condition?"

"Her doctors would be better able to answer that," Parsons informed him. "From a layman's perspective, she seemed okay – aware, alert, and in decent shape physically."

House took down the name and number of the Dean of Medicine at Presbyterian Hospital. He didn't need to bother, as Cuddy received a call on her cell almost immediately.

"Hello, Sunil," Cuddy answered her phone. "The detective on the case here just told us. How is she?" There was a pause. "Yes, we'll get the next available flight out of Newark. Thanks, I really appreciate it."

Wilson was up immediately and on the laptop checking flights. Chase went to the basement to get House and Cuddy's luggage and put it in their room. He began packing clothes.

Daniela went next door to tell Andie, Catia and Amaya. Andie called Wilson and confirmed he was going to be traveling with them, so she went and got his suitcase and began packing for him.

"What did he say about Rachael?" Bill asked anxiously.

"She's very quiet and withdrawn, but she was able to answer questions. She's in good physical shape, other than being hungry and a little dehydrated. She has some bruising on her face and neck."

"Did that SOB hit her?" Her grandfather asked angrily.

"The ER doctors say that's a strong possibility," Cuddy said quietly.

House took Michael and went to the library.

"I have a reservation for three tickets from Newark leaving at five twenty today, arriving at Charlotte at seven thirty-five," Wilson announced. "It was the earliest fight I could get. Besides, by the time we pack get to the airport, we'll just about make it."

Chase emerged from the bedroom. "You and House are packed, except for toiletries."

"Thank you," Cuddy said. She wasn't sure what Chase had packed for her, but, for once in her life, she wasn't going to worry about it. If he'd forgotten anything, she could just buy something when she got there. She went to her bedroom to collect her make-up and other sundries. She collected House's items as well. She packed some of his pain meds. He kept a spare copy of his scripts for when he traveled. She packed those along with their passports.

Wilson had gone next door to retrieve his things. Chase put the suitcases into Wilson's Volvo. By this time, it was almost two. "We'd better get going," Wilson insisted nervously.

When Cuddy found House in the library, he was finishing up a phone call. "Thanks for seeing us so soon," House concluded. "I let you know if anything changes."

"Gregory House actually thanking someone?" Cuddy questioned.

"I'll tell you about it later," House grumbled. "We have a plane to catch."

Everyone said their goodbyes. Cuddy's father assured her he would be there every day until they got back. He told Wilson he would check in on Andie and Catia, too.

Since it was Sunday afternoon, the traffic wasn't too bad getting to the airport. The business travelers were just starting to trickle into the airport for Sunday evening flights.

House, Cuddy and Wilson got through security and baggage check fairly quickly. They found themselves waiting at the gate for their flight with an hour to spare.

"So, who were you thanking on the phone?" Cuddy asked again.

"Wow," Wilson commented, "House was actually thanking someone? Who?"

"You'll never find out if you don't shut up," House stated gruffly to Wilson.

"I called Nolan," House informed Cuddy as he shot daggers with his eyes at Wilson in an attempt to keep him quiet. For the time being, it worked.

"Why are you calling him?" Cuddy asked, concerned that the stress House was under might have made his mental state worse.

"I found the top three mental health specialists in the country who deal with PTSD. They all live in the tri-state area, so I wanted Nolan's opinion on who was the best, and who would be the best for us. Nolan recommended Dr. Gati. I called her and she agreed to see us this Friday. I was thanking her for taking us so soon."

"I'm going to look out the window of the plane to see if there any flying donkeys," Wilson commented sarcastically.

"Wow," House responded. "And here I thought my BFF would be so supportive of my taking a pro-active step in mental health."

"Seeing the therapist is great," Wilson came back at House. "It's just the 'thanking' part I can't seem to wrap my head around."

"Hey, Wilson," House stated forcefully, "Wrap this."

"Are you two going to behave like a couple of seventh grade boys for the whole flight?" Cuddy questioned angrily. "If you are, I'm going to have to separate you."

"Oh, Mom," House said in his best kid voice as he rolled his eyes.

"I think they just called our row," Cuddy said. She was ready to dope-slap both of them just to get them to be quiet.

Luckily, House made no comments about airport security or carrying banned items when he boarded the plane. They got seated fairly quickly.

The flight was uneventful, except for a little turbulence. They didn't even have a long wait to get off the plane, although it seemed like forever to them. House and Cuddy waited for the luggage while Wilson got the rental car.

They got the luggage loaded into the car, and Wilson programmed the hospital into the GPS. It looked to be about a forty-five minute drive.

Wilson got behind the wheel, and Cuddy called her colleague. "Yes, we're here, Sunil. The flight was fine, thanks. How is she? Okay. According to the GPS, it will take us about forty-five minutes to get to the hospital. Thanks, that would be excellent. We really appreciate it."

"Wilson," Cuddy said after she hung up the phone, "He said we should meet him at the main entrance. He said we could use the doctor's parking lot.

House fished in his backpack and removed his handicapped parking tag. He handed it to Wilson, who hung it on the mirror.

The ride was mostly quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Wilson was happy to be the one driving. Since he didn't know the city of Charlotte, it gave him something to concentrate on. He couldn't imagine what was going on in Cuddy's and House's minds at this point.

When they were within five minutes of the hospital, Cuddy phoned her colleague. They pulled into the parking lot and parked in the closest handicapped space. Cuddy ran to the entrance. House followed closely behind. Wilson had forgotten how quickly House could move, even with his cane and leg slowing him down. Wilson almost had to trot to keep up with them.

"Lisa," said a tall, thin man with dark skin, hair and eyes. "How are you doing?"

"Sunil," Cuddy responded, taking the hand he offered her. "Thank you so much for helping us."

Cuddy introduced House and Wilson as they moved quickly along the corridor toward the elevator.

Dr. Sunil Gupta was the Dean of Medicine at Charlotte-Presbyterian Hospital, one of the largest medical centers in the Southeastern United States. He and Cuddy had been to many conferences together over the years. In fact, the last conference they had attended had been in Charlotte, and he and his wife had shown Cuddy around the town.

"How is Sunanda?" Cuddy asked as they stepped into the elevator.

"She made partner in her law firm," Gupta announced proudly.

"Please extend my congratulations to her," Cuddy stated. "And how is Laskshmi?"

"She just got accepted at Harvard," Gupta exclaimed with even more pride.

"That's great!" Cuddy responded.

"You'll be there one day with Rachael," Gupta said encouragingly.

House was astonished by Cuddy's ability to make small talk. He knew that was what made her so successful as Dean of Medicine. She could keep track of all these trivial, or at least what House considered trivial, details about employees, board members, donors, even colleagues from other hospitals.

He was also appalled by it. He decided it was just a reflex, and it probably made her feel better, or at least more normal, to spend time talking like this rather than discussing anything having to do with Rachael. While he decided to cut Cuddy some slack, he didn't have to do that with Gupta.

"Let's just try to figure out what's going on with her now, shall we?" House said, not making much of an effort to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "What is her actual medical status?"

"Well," Gupta responded, "As I told Lisa on the phone, when she was brought in, she was hungry and dehydrated, and she had some contusions on her face and neck. Other than that, she seems fine physically. She is compliant with directions, but she is very quiet. This may be a sign of emotional problems brought on by her experiences, or it could simply be that she doesn't know any of us and she won't talk to us, which would also be understandable considering what's happened to her."

"Any signs of sexual abuse?" House asked bluntly. He saw Cuddy wince involuntarily.

"No, thank heavens," Gupta replied. It went unsaid that it was traumatic enough for Rachael that someone on the hospital staff had to perform an exam to check for it.

They had reached Rachael's room. When they entered, a young nurse was sitting at Rachael's bedside.

"Mommy!" Rachael cried and opened her arms. Cuddy ran to the bed, embraced her daughter, and smothered her with kisses. They were both crying.

Gupta and the nurse quietly left the room. House and Wilson decided to hang back. Cuddy and Rachael broke the embrace and Rachael looked in the direction where House and Wilson were standing. Wilson was about to leave when Rachael yelled, "Uncle James!" and opened her arms to him. Wilson hesitated for a moment. House gave him a slight push with his cane and Wilson went and hugged her.

When they broke their embrace, Cuddy and Wilson were sitting on either side of the bed. House stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do. Everything in him wanted to run to her and embrace her and kiss her the way Cuddy had, but she hadn't called out to him. He didn't want to push her in any way, so he waited. Wilson got up from the bed. "Aren't you going to hug your father?" he asked. Rachael turned on her side and put the pillow over her head.

Cuddy, House and Wilson looked at each other with perplexed expressions. "Sweetie, it's okay, you don't have to right now," Cuddy told her. Rachael lifted the pillow and put her arms back around Cuddy.

A moment passed. House said, "Why don't we wait outside for a while?" He and Wilson left the room.

"What's going on?" Wilson asked.

"Like I would know," House said. His voice was a mixture of frustration and sadness.

"Maybe she's afraid of men," Wilson ventured.

"I know you're really a girl, Wilson," House snarked, "But I don't think Rachael has figured that out yet. If she were afraid of men, she wouldn't have hugged you."

"It could be my using the word 'father,'" Wilson continued. "Maybe she's been traumatized enough by her birth father that the word upsets her."

"No," House reasoned. "She was ignoring me before you said that. It was like she was looking right through me."

"She's probably settled down by now," Wilson said. "Why don't you try again?"

"I'll wait," House said. "We'll leave her alone with Cuddy and get settled into the hotel."

"I'll go tell them," Wilson agreed. He thought House should try again, but he didn't want to push in case Rachael had an even worse reaction.

Wilson emerged from the room.

"How is she?" House asked.

"She's calmed down," Wilson reported. "Cuddy is holding her and they are talking a little."

"Let's go," House stated.

The hotel was across the street from the hospital. They moved the car to the hotel parking lot and retrieved the bags. They checked in and had their bags brought up to their rooms.

They went back to the hospital and to Rachael's room.

Rachael's dinner had just arrived. "Hi, Uncle James," she said as she saw them enter the room. She was still refusing to acknowledge House.

Wilson could see House's shoulders sagging in defeat. "We saw an Olive Garden down the road. We'll go get dinner and bring you back something," Wilson told Cuddy. "What would you like?"

"I'll have a chicken caesar salad," Cuddy said. Wilson could tell she was as discouraged as House was.

"See you later," Wilson said as he and House left the room. They went across the street and got in the car. They drove the mile plus to the Olive Garden and went in, all without talking. They had to wait for a table. House sent Wilson to the bar with the pager and he went outside.

He pulled out his cell phone and looked up his previous calls. He selected a number and hit send.

"Detective Parsons," the voice answered.

"It's House," he stated. "Tell me what happened."

"As I explained before, we got our chance when he checked into another motel," Parsons began. "We waited until they left this morning and confronted him in the parking lot."

"Where was Rachael?" House asked. He wanted to know what she had seen. It might explain why she was behaving the way she did towards him. Even if it didn't, House needed to know so he could understand what they were dealing with.

"She was in his car," Parsons told him. "We went at him with guns drawn. He pulled a gun and refused to put it down. We fired and he dropped."

"Where is he now?" House asked, assuming he knew the answer.

"The morgue," Parsons replied.

"Did she see him getting killed?" House asked, also knowing and dreading the answer.

"I don't know that for sure," Parsons responded. "But I'm pretty sure she did."

"Fuck," House uttered. Another thought occurred to him. "Did she see the accomplice get killed, too?"

"We don't know," Parsons admitted. "But it is a strong possibly."

Upon hearing this, House let out a string of expletives that would have made a longshoreman blush.

"I'm sorry Doctor House, but there was really nothing we could have done to prevent it," Parsons explained.

"I know that," House responded. "That wasn't directed at you. That was directed at that asshole in the morgue."

"At least you'll be spared the trauma of a trial," Parsons stated. "And you'll won't have to worry about him not getting convicted or getting released from prison and bothering you again."

When Parsons made that statement, House wondered what had really happened in that parking lot. Had Fielding actually drawn a gun and had the cops been forced to shoot him? He was sure that most of the cops in that lot that day had kids of their own.

House surmised that the only person that was alive, knew the truth and would be willing to admit it was Rachael, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask her. She might tell them something during therapy, but, even then, unless it helped her, what difference did it make? Parsons was right – Fielding was gone, never to plague them again. House needed to focus on healing his daughter. And it wasn't going to be quick or easy.

"I have to go," Parsons' voice cut through House's thoughts. "We'll call you if we need anything."

"If I have any more questions, can I call you?" House inquired.

"You can always ask," Parsons stated. "I may not be able or allowed to answer . . . "

"Understood," House replied. He clicked off his phone and stood on the sidewalk, deep in thought. He wasn't sure how long it was before Wilson stuck his head out the door.

"We're up," Wilson informed him, holding up the restaurant-provided, coaster-sized beeper that was flashing and making an annoying noise.

House followed him inside, and the hostess seated them at a table. House was unsure how much he should tell Wilson. It wasn't that Wilson shouldn't know about it, it was just that House knew he'd have to tell Cuddy, and he really didn't want to re-live this multiple times. Maybe if he looked at it as practice, it wouldn't be so difficult.

"So, what did Parsons have to say?" Wilson asked as the waitress brought them both beers.

"How did you know I was talking to Parsons?" House asked, both surprised and impressed by Wilson's deductive reasoning.

"What did he say?" Wilson decided to forgo his pride in being able to impress House and find out what was going on.

"Fielding was killed in front of her," House related, "And it's a strong possibility that the accomplice was, too."

"Dear God," Wilson responded. He knew Rachael was likely to have problems from the kidnapping, but he didn't know this would be added to it. "Do you think this is why she won't talk to you?"

"I'm sure she's traumatized by it," House stated. "But the not talking is something else."

"What?" Wilson inquired.

"No clue," House replied.

In the meantime, the waitress had brought their food to the table. They ate in silence.

As always, Wilson covered the check. They returned to the hotel parking lot with the car and walked over to the hospital.

Rachael was asleep when they arrived at the room. Wilson gave Cuddy her salad.

"They're bringing in a recliner," Cuddy told them. "I'm going to stay here for tonight."

House kissed Cuddy goodnight and he and Wilson walked across the street.

They had two rooms. House and Cuddy's accommodations had a king size bed, and Wilson's adjoining room had two double beds.

Wilson heard House's painful sigh as he stared into the empty room. "Hey, why don't we open the doors between the rooms?"

"Okay," House agreed. From the dearth of snark, Wilson knew how upset House was about what had happened with Rachael.

"What are you going to do?" Wilson inquired.

"Dammed if I know," House responded.

"Goodnight, House."

"Goodnight, Wilson."


	89. Chapter 89

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc**.

Shortly after Wilson and House said goodnight, Wilson heard House's cell ring. In a few minutes, House came into Wilson's room and told him they were releasing Rachael tomorrow. Wilson got on his laptop and booked a flight for two forty-five in the afternoon. He told House and House called Cuddy. She told House she would be at the hotel in the morning to shower and change into clean clothes.

Wilson called Andie and gave her an update. He told her how Rachael was, that Cuddy was spending the night in the hospital and the details of how Rachael was rescued. He even told her that it was a strong possibility Rachael had seen Fielding murder the accomplice. He let her know they would be home tomorrow night.

The one thing he didn't mention was how Rachael was reacting to House. He knew Andie would not be judgmental, but he wasn't sure House wanted anyone to know about it. Besides, Wilson The Optimist kept hoping Rachael would come out of it and allow House to be with her.

Wilson fell asleep shortly after he finished the phone call.

Wilson woke up to the sound of someone yelling. It took him a few seconds to orient himself and remember where he was. When he looked at the clock on the nightstand it was only a couple of hours past when they went to bed. The yelling kept getting louder. Wilson's back was already bothering him because of the hotel bed, so he couldn't get up as quickly as he would have liked. He made his way to House and Cuddy's room through the door between the rooms and saw House thrashing around on the bed.

Wilson gently shook House. He woke up with a start. He was sweating and his breathing was rapid.

Wilson waited for him to get himself oriented. He rubbed House's shoulder until House pushed him away. From that Wilson knew House was fully awake and himself again.

"I'm sure you're not going to tell me about your nightmare," Wilson said. "I'm just glad you're going to be getting some professional help. Especially since this is the second one."

From that, House knew Chase must have told Wilson about the nightmare the previous evening. House would have been pissed if he had the emotional energy. At least Wilson wasn't pushing him to talk about it, so his anger was tempered by gratitude. "I'm going to get a glass of water."

"Why don't you get it and bring it over to my room, and we'll see what's on TV?" Wilson asked.

House acknowledged Wilson's idea with a nod.

Wilson went back to his room, opened the armoire containing the TV and grabbed the remote. He sat in one of the chairs because he knew sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard would become very painful very quickly. He cursed the idiots that had assaulted him and he cursed the idiots that had taken Rachael. Why couldn't people just leave them alone to live their lives? Andie had said nothing was ever completely good or completely bad. Five months after his attack, he could see some good coming from it -- the twins, and he, Andie and Catia becoming closer and more of a family. He was having a harder time seeing how what had happened to Rachael was going to have anything positive attached to it. He fervently hoped to be wrong five months from now.

House limped through the door carrying his glass of water. "Anything good on?"

Wilson had been lost in thought and hadn't really been paying attention as he flipped through the channels. "Why don't you check?"

He threw the remote to House, who was sitting on the bed Wilson hadn't slept in.

House didn't see much to choose from.

"Want to try the pay-per-view?" Wilson suggested.

"Wouldn't be worth it," House said. "I wouldn't be able to concentrate."

"Well I think it's too late to get delivery," Wilson stated. "How about raiding the mini-bar?"

"Yeah," House snorted, "I could really get Rachael to love me again, cranky from a hangover and smelling like stale booze."

"You don't have to 'get her to love you,' since she already does," Wilson argued. "He said something to her to drive you two apart. You just have to convince her he was lying."

"I don't think that's the problem," House asserted.

"Why not?" Wilson asked.

"Because she's a smart kid," House observed. "She wouldn't fall for that. Now, if he'd kept her for several months or years and had the chance to brainwash her, I could see where that might happen, but not in less than three days."

"Well," Wilson said, "He was a sociopath, and people like that can be very charming and persuasive."

"I don't think the 'persuasion' worked," House asserted, "Or he wouldn't have needed to hit her."

Wilson remembered the bruises he saw on Rachael's face and neck and winced. "Well, if he wasn't able to drive a wedge between you, why won't she acknowledge you?"

"I don't know," House answered honestly. "I can't seem to figure it out."

Wilson sighed. His theory had been convincingly countered by House. Besides, if House couldn't solve the puzzle, Wilson knew he had no chance.

"Are you tired now?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah," House admitted. He started to get off the bed to make his way back to his room.

"Why don't you just use that bed to sleep?" Wilson asked, indicating the other double bed in his room that House was sitting on.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Jimmy?" House questioned with a smirk on his face.

Wilson thought it would help House to have someone close by. But if he said that, House would just laugh at him, and go to the other room. "I was just being selfish."

"What?" House asked.

"When I get up, my back hurts. If you had another nightmare, I wouldn't have to walk so far in pain," Wilson said. That was at least partly true, and it gave House the cover he needed to pretend he wasn't the needy one.

"Okay," House said with an overly dramatic, theatrically put-upon sigh. "I'll stay."

House got up to use the bathroom and get another glass of water. Wilson also used the bathroom. By the time he got back to his bed, House was already asleep.

When Wilson woke up early the next morning, the other bed was empty. He saw that the doors between the rooms were closed. He could hear someone in the shower and assumed it was Cuddy. He got up, showered and got dressed.

He packed everything and put his luggage by the door. He knocked on the door between the rooms, and Cuddy opened it. She had showered and dressed. She invited Wilson into the room and he sat down on a chair. The water was running in the bathroom, so House was showering now.

"How is she?" Wilson asked.

"Physically, she's going very well," Cuddy stated. "Emotionally, she's unsettled and anxious. Just what you would expect."

"Do you have any idea why she's behaving in such a strange way toward House?" Wilson asked.

"She didn't say anything to me about it, and I didn't want to push it," Cuddy responded. "And, honestly, I just don't get it. I was hoping you and House could figure it out."

"Not yet," Wilson said.

"When House gets done, do you want to get some breakfast?" Wilson asked.

"Sure," Cuddy said. "Rachael doesn't have any clothes for the flight back, so I'm going to have to go shopping."

"I saw a Target when we went to dinner last night," Wilson informed her. "We could go there after breakfast."

"I'd like to check in with Rachael before that," Cuddy told him.

Wilson went back to his room and waited for House to finish his shower and get dressed. After that, they checked out and had their bags brought down. They loaded the luggage in the car and left for breakfast. They returned to the hospital around eight thirty.

Cuddy went into Rachael's room. After a few minutes she emerged. "She says she's okay with my leaving and going to get her some clothes, but I think someone should stay with her."

House dreaded the idea of wandering around a huge store looking for just the right outfit to make Rachael feel whatever it was that girls and women felt when they bought clothes they liked. But, he and Wilson knew where the store was and Cuddy didn't, so one of them would have to drive her there. "I'll get the car started," House said.

"No," Cuddy stopped him. "I think Wilson should go with me."

"Why?" House asked, feigning offense. "Does Wilson have better taste in clothes than I do?"

"Obviously," Cuddy snarked in return. "Besides, I just can't stand to hear you whining the whole time we're there about when we are going to leave."

House was pretty sure Cuddy didn't care if he complained about the shopping. After all, she had shrugged off most of his complaints for years. He was convinced Cuddy was trying to get him into the room with Rachael. House wasn't sure what that would accomplish, but he was tired of trying to figure out what was going on. He wanted to get the chance to ask Rachael why she appeared to want to be as far away from him as possible. "Okay, I'll stay with her when you to go shopping."

Cuddy and Wilson went toward the elevators. House took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Rachael's' room.

Rachael was sitting up and eating the last of her breakfast when House entered. She looked up from her tray and saw it was him. She lay back down on the bed and turned to face the wall.

House stood in the middle of the room for a moment. Did he really want to pursue this? Part of him wanted to wait until the therapist's session on Friday. That way, if Rachael had a meltdown, there would be a professional there to handle it.

_No_, he thought. _That's the coward's way_. At least part of the reason this happened was because he wasn't involved enough in her life. He had expected the people at the school to take care of her with minimal involvement from him. The fact that they were morons made things worse, but his lack of participation played a significant role. He was going to face this. He might fail miserably, but he had to try.

He moved to the bed, pushed the tray stand away and sat down on the bed. He put his hand on Rachael's shoulder and starting rubbing her. She pulled away and curled up into a ball at the farthest edge of the bed that she could.

"Hey, kid," House said softly. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm trying to figure out why you're acting this way, but I can't. I need some help from you."

Rachael simply curled up more tightly.

"You're going to make me work for this, huh?" House asked rhetorically. "Okay, let me think about why you might be doing this. I'm not really good at this feelings stuff, as you know, so maybe you can jump in if I get it wrong."

Rachael didn't move, but at least she didn't curl up any tighter. House was desperate enough to take that as a good sign.

"Let's see," House said, thinking out loud. "Why would one person ignore another person? It could be because she doesn't like him. She used to love him, so why would that change? Maybe because she's mad at him. Now why would she be mad at him? Maybe because he failed to protect her and let her get taken away."

House looked at Rachael. She was still curled up, but she was also breathing more rapidly.

"Am I right about that?" House asked in his softest voice.

Rachael turned to look at him. Her eyes were filled with tears. "No," she said. "I'm not mad at you. It's just that I'm afraid."

"He can't get you any more, kid," House told her. "You don't have to be afraid of him."

"I'm not afraid of _him_," Rachael responded. "I'm afraid of _you_."

"Me?" House asked, completely surprised. "Why?"

"Because you must be so mad at me," Rachael responded.

"What?" House's surprise and confusion was evident, even to Rachael. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I messed up," Rachael admitted. "I never should have gone with Arthur."

Well, House now knew the name of Fielding's accomplice. Not that he cared, particularly. Just another loser, as far as he was concerned. He was interested in something else.

"I'm not mad at you about that," House reassured Rachael. "I am curious why you went with him. Did he threaten you?"

"What does 'threaten' mean?" Rachael asked.

"Did he say something to scare you into going with him?" House questioned.

"No," Rachael replied. "He looked a little like you. He even had a cane like you. He told me Mommy was planning a surprise party for your anniversary and he was going to be there to play you in a skit. He told me I was supposed to go with him to the party."

Of course, House had completely forgotten that yesterday was his and Cuddy's one-year anniversary. Well; at least he had a really good excuse for not remembering it.

"So he used deception and subterfuge to get you to go with him," House remarked.

"What?" Rachael asked.

"He tricked you," House explained.

"I was so stupid to believe him," Rachael said sadly. "If you think all the smart people who work for you are idiots, then you must think I'm way dumber than that. You must be ashamed of me."

_You must be ashamed of me._ Every feeling of helplessness and shame House had felt when John abused and berated him came flooding back. The one thing he never wanted his children to feel was that their father was ashamed of them.

House gently took Rachael's bruised face into his hands. "Look at me," He said, making sure they had eye contact. "I am NOT ashamed of you. You are seven years old and you were victimized by two clever adults. You need to listen to me very carefully. This was NOT your fault. You are not to blame for what happened to you. Do you understand?"

Rachael nodded. House became aware of his hands being wet. Rachael was crying. House extended his arms to hold her but she turned away again.

"Is there something else?" House asked quietly. House wondered just how much damage had that bastard been able to inflict on her in less than three days.

"I didn't run away from him," Rachael said, looking down at the blanket. "I didn't even try."

"That's perfectly understandable," House said. "You were afraid he'd hurt you."

"It wasn't just that," Rachael admitted. "If he'd killed me, I know you and mommy would probably be sad, at least for a while. But he told me that if I ran away, he'd kill you and mommy just like he killed Arthur. I didn't want you to die . . . "

_We'd be sad for a while._ House could hear Rachael's statement reverberating in his head. _It would have destroyed us. Destroyed me. Just like in the dream._

The SOB had not only killed his accomplice, he'd used it as an example to intimidate Rachael. If House had ever doubted Fielding was a total sociopath, he sure as hell didn't now.

Rachael was hiccupping and sobbing at this point. House again tried to fold her into his arms but she put her hand against his chest to stop it. "More?" House asked. A thought passed through his mind that it was a good thing the cops had killed Fielding, because otherwise, House would have done it himself.

"I tried to hide it, but he saw the necklace you gave me," Rachael was whimpering now. "He got so angry when he read it. He said you weren't my father, he was. He pulled it off my neck and . . . he . . . he . . . threw it . . . in the dumpster . . . it's gone forever . . . "

Her body was overtaken by deep, wracking sobs. This time, when House put his arms around her, she didn't stop him. He pulled her onto his lap and rocked her in his arms like he hadn't since she was a baby. She clung to him, and he felt like he couldn't hold her closely enough. Without his even being aware of it, he found himself kissing her all over her head, neck, shoulders, and any other part of her that he could reach.

After a few moments, she stopped crying enough to become conscious of what House was doing. This didn't feel like anger to her. He stopped for a moment. "So, you're not mad at me?" she asked as she looked into his eyes.

"No." House answered quickly. There was a pain so sharp in his chest that he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Rachael saw his face crumple, looking almost as though it had imploded. Everything he'd been holding in since they came to get Rachael came rushing out in a torrent of tears. House thought, such as he was capable of thinking at that moment, that his emotions were so strong they might frighten Rachael. But, he also knew it would feel like rejection to her if he suddenly pulled away. He did what he had done with Michael the previous day and buried his face in the spot where her neck and shoulders met. He breathed an inward sigh of relief as he felt her arms close around him.

"I love you, Daddy," Rachael said softly

"I love you, too, baby girl," House croaked through his tears.

They stayed like that for a while, giving themselves the chance to settle down a little. House was still holding Rachael in his lap when Cuddy and Wilson returned to the room. Cuddy had a couple of shopping bags. "I bought you a few clothes. And a toothbrush, some shampoo and a hairbrush.

"Are they going to let me take a shower?" Rachael asked hopefully. "I haven't washed since Friday morning."

"I'm sure they will." Cuddy responded. Cuddy was trying not to react to the fact that Rachael and House looked like they were welded together. House continued to kiss Rachael every minute or so, and Rachael kept both her arms around his neck. Their actions plus their tear-stained faces made it obvious something had happened, but Cuddy didn't think it was a good idea to discuss it in front of Rachael.

The nurse entered, checking to see what Rachael had eaten. Cuddy asked if Rachael could take a shower, and was told it would be arranged.

An orderly came with a wheel chair and Cuddy and Rachael went to the showers.

"It looks like everything is better," Wilson commented, looking around the room for anything they might need to take with them as House sat on the bed.

"Well," House said. "I'm not sure about that."

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked. "You were hugging each other and you were kissing her. You've both been crying. It was obvious there was some sort of catharsis."

"Well, she talked to me, at least," House agreed.

"Why was she avoiding you?" Wilson asked.

"She thought I was mad at her," House stated.

"What? Why would you be mad at her?" Wilson questioned.

"She thought I'd be angry that she went with the accomplice, that she didn't try to escape, and the fact that Fielding threw away the necklace I gave her." House answered.

"But she couldn't help any of that," Wilson argued.

"Seven year olds under extreme stress are not the most logical beings," House responded.

"From what I've observed, neither are fifty-somethings," Wilson commented.

House ignored the snark. "And just because she's talking to me doesn't mean everything is okay. She saw two people killed right in front of her. She was threatened. The bastard hit her . . . "

"You've got the appointment with the therapist, right?" Wilson said.

"Does therapy fix everything?" House asked. "Did it solve all your problems after the attack?"

"Not yet," Wilson admitted. "But things are better than they were. I'm only having nightmares every couple of weeks now. And the flashbacks are pretty much gone. And I'm thinking that in a few months I might even be able to go into the hospital parking garage with only a mild panic attack."

"Well, that's encouraging," House stated in his most sarcastic voice.

Cuddy and the orderly returned with Rachael. The nurse went to get the discharge papers.

They stopped to say goodbye and thank you to Gupta on the way out. At least Cuddy and Wilson did. House simply kept his mouth shut.

They got to the airport early enough that they could eat lunch at Chili's. Rachael mostly picked at her food, but she did eat a little something.

The flight was delayed by forty-five minutes, but other than that, the plane ride was okay. They arrived at Newark at five forty-five. That meant rush-hour traffic, but Wilson negotiated it with relative ease. They arrived home at about seven.


	90. Chapter 90

Chapter 90

A/N: Sorry this took so long to update, but I've been seriously bummed about the direction the show is taking with Cuddy, not to mention Huddy, so the muse refused to visit for a while.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own**

House and Cuddy didn't know what to expect from Rachael as they walked into their home. She seemed to be at ease. Daniela was waiting for her, with Michael in her arms.

"Mi nina," Daniela whispered tearfully as Rachael hugged her. "Tu hermano . . . "

Rachael giggled as Michael tried and failed to hug her with his wildly waving arms and gave her a very sloppy kiss. "Ray-Ray," he babbled happily.

Cuddy's father waited to greet her.

"Grandpa Cuddy," Rachael acknowledged as he took her in his arms.

"I'm just glad you're back safe, sweetheart," Bill stated as he hugged her.

After they finished embracing, Rachael asked, "Where's the rest of my family? Where's Aunt Andie and Catia?"

"They're next door, sweetie," Wilson answered. "They didn't want to overwhelm you."

"Can I see them, please?" Rachael asked in her most polite voice. She needed her best friend more than she could say. And her best friend's mom, who had taken such good care of her, well that could only make her feel better.

Wilson called next door and Andie and Catia came over. They hugged and kissed Rachael and welcomed her back.

Wilson watched, thinking about his own relationship with Catia. He was her guardian, but he realized that wasn't enough any more. Not after what he had witnessed over the last four days. He would talk to Andie when they went back home.

Even though it was only seven-thirty, everyone felt tired and very drained emotionally, especially Rachael.

Cuddy's father left, promising to come back later in the week. Wilson, Andie and Catia went next door, and Daniela got Michael ready for bed. Daniela had returned Michael's crib to his room when she found out Rachael was coming home, just so things would feel normal for her.

Daniela decided to leave and give the family some time together. House and Cuddy were taking the rest of the week off, so they didn't need her to watch Rachael or Michael for the next two days. She was returning Friday to take care of Michael when Rachael, Cuddy and House had their appointment with Doctor Gati.

Cuddy heated up some food Andie brought over earlier in the day. She, House and Rachael ate a quiet dinner together.

"It's good to be normal again," Rachael commented.

Before Cuddy had a chance to react, House stated, "Normal's overrated." The last thing he wanted was Rachael trying to get things back the way they were by attempting to forget or stuff down everything that had happened. House had learned from painful personal experience that it just didn't work. "It's okay to feel scared, upset or even mad about what happened."

"I don't feel any of those things," Rachael said softly.

"What do you feel, sweetie?" Cuddy asked.

"Nothing," Rachael answered honestly.

Cuddy shot House a look of serious concern. "Well, sweetie," she tried to be comforting, "You may be a little numb after all that you've been through. You know that we're going to see a doctor on Friday to help us with . . . " Cuddy hesitated, she didn't want to use a phrase like "emotional trauma" and scare Rachael, " . . . everything."

"What things?" Rachael asked, unable to hide the fear in her voice.

House saw no reason to hold back. She was going to find out in a couple of days, anyway. "You've seen your Mom's belly, right?" House asked, trying to come up with something that would help Rachael understand. She nodded. "Well, as you know, she had an accident before Michael was born, and Chase had to operate to get Michael out of her uterus. And you know that operation gave her a scar, right?"

"Yes," Rachael said softly.

"Well, when people go through things that are emotionally painful, especially if there is violence, they can get emotional scars."

"They can?" Rachael asked, still sounding confused. "Where are these scars?"

"Well, since it involves emotions, you can't really see it, unless you do a brain scan."

"My brain has scars on it now?" Rachael asked with trepidation.

"No, kid," House replied quickly. "Our brains use a lot of chemicals to function. For a traumatized person, those chemicals are out of whack. That's what a brain scan shows."

"What does having messed up brain chemicals do?" Rachael asked. "Will it make me stupid?"

"It doesn't affect your intelligence," House explained. "But it can result in things like nightmares or flashbacks."

"What's a flashback?" Rachael questioned.

"It's when you start to relive a bad experience, even though it's over," House responded.

"That sounds really scary," Rachael stated.

"It is," House replied. "That's why we're taking you to the doctor. We want to help you get through the scary stuff and get better."

"How does the doctor fix me?" Rachael. "Does he zap me during the brain scan and get the chemicals right again?"

"No," Cuddy interjected. "The scan only shows that there are problems. It doesn't fix anything. Talking to the doctor is what fixes things."

"But what if I don't want to talk?" Rachael asked. "What if it's scary or painful to talk about and I don't want to think about it any more and I just want to forget it?"

"Doesn't work that way, kid," House informed her. "It hurts, but you have to talk about it. Otherwise the nightmares and the flashbacks only get worse."

"This sucks," Rachael stated with force.

As a rule, Cuddy would have told Rachael to watch her language, but right now it was more important that Rachael express her feelings than observe the social niceties.

"It sure does," House agreed. "Somebody hurts you, and then you are stuck doing the hard work of trying to fix the effects of the pain he caused you."

"Why do you think this happened?" Rachael asked. "Didn't he know I'm happy here with you? Didn't he know this is my home and family?"

"Well," House answered, "The police told me that he was probably watching us for a while to understand our routine and to figure out how to get an opportunity to take you. So, I would think he could probably see you were doing okay."

"So, why did he take me, then?" She questioned.

House wondered how he was going to explain a sociopath with narcissistic personality disorder to a seven year old. "He wasn't thinking about what you wanted or needed. He was only thinking about what he wanted. Apparently, he believed taking you would solve whatever problems he had. He didn't care that it would massively disrupt your life and make you unhappy."

"So, he was being selfish?" Rachael asked.

"Very," Cuddy replied. "Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

"I am getting a little sleepy," Rachael admitted.

Cuddy took Rachael to get ready for bed and read her Goodnight, Moon. She and House kissed her goodnight and told her to let them know immediately if she was upset or needed anything.

They returned to the family room and sat next to each other on the couch. House put his arm around Cuddy's shoulder and she encircled his waist with her arm. Her head rested against his chest and his head rested on the top of hers.

"Do you think she'll have nightmares tonight?" Cuddy asked.

"It's a strong possibility," House stated. "Hey, do you want to do what we did before Michael slept through the night?"

"What do you mean?" Cuddy answered his question with another question.

"How soon they forget," House observed. "Remember, the cranky insomniac took the first half of the night shift, and the obsessive early-riser took the second half of the night shift?"

"Do you think it will be that bad?" Cuddy asked.

"I don't know," House responded. "I just think it would be a good idea to prepare for it."

"Okay," Cuddy agreed. "Before I go to bed, I just want to ask you about what happened with you and Rachael at the hospital in Charlotte."

House really didn't want to relive those particular moments of his life, but he guessed he'd probably have to talk about it in therapy, if not Friday, then at some point in the very near future. Besides, Cuddy deserved to know.

"Well, it turned out she wasn't mad at me like I thought," House began. "She was afraid of me."

"What?" Cuddy questioned, completely surprised and puzzled. "Why?"

"She thought I would be mad at her because she screwed up by going voluntarily with Fielding's accomplice, for not trying to escape, and because of the necklace."

"Why did she go with him?" Cuddy asked. It was something she had wondered about herself, and felt guilty, about, too. Hadn't they and the school taught her not to go with strangers? Apparently not well enough.

"He told her you were throwing a surprise anniversary party and he was going to be in a skit playing me," House reported. "He told her he was supposed to take her to the party."

"How awful to manipulate a child's innocence like that," Cuddy stated. ""I'm assuming she didn't run away because she was scared. Who wouldn't be?"

"It wasn't just that," House explained. He was dreaded telling Cuddy what he had suspected from the beginning and had been confirmed by the police. "He killed the accomplice in front of her, and told her that's what he would do to us if she tried to escape."

"Dear God," Cuddy whispered as she burrowed her face deeper into House's shoulder. He could hear her ragged breathing as he waited for her to absorb the information. She was just now becoming aware of what House had known for a while, namely, that this wasn't going to be easy or quick to resolve for any of them, especially Rachael.

After Cuddy composed herself, she asked," What necklace and why was she upset about it?"

"The one I gave her when the adoption was finalized," House told Cuddy. "Apparently, she tried to hide it from him, but he discovered it, declared the necklace was a lie because he was her real father, whipped it off her neck and tossed it in the nearest dumpster."

"So that's where the scratches and neck bruising came from," Cuddy realized as she shuddered. "She was so proud of that necklace. It made her so happy to have it."

"It can be replaced," House commented, "Although I'm not sure if that's what she'd want. I don't want it to be a reminder of that bastard taking it away from her and hurting her."

"You can always wait and see how her therapy is going and what she says about it," Cuddy said. "You can make a decision then about whether to replace it or not."

House acknowledged what she said with a nod.

There was a pause in the conversation.

"House," Cuddy began, "I know you are going to stay awake for the first part of the night, but could you come with me now?"

House realized it had been several days since they had been together. "Sure. But what if she has a nightmare while we're doing it at the other end of the house?"

"I think I can do something about that," Cuddy stated. When Daniela had been cleaning out the bedrooms, she had come across an old baby monitor Cuddy had used for Rachael. Cuddy went to the garage and dug it out of one of the boxes of items they were going to donate. She retrieved some batteries from the kitchen.

"I'll just put this in her room, and then we'll hear if anything is going on," Cuddy informed House.

Cuddy went as quietly as she could into Rachael's room. She put the monitor on her dresser and slipped away.

"Is she asleep?" House asked as Cuddy returned to the family room.

"She looked to be," Cuddy replied. "Maybe being in her own bed and her own room will allow her to feel safe."

House knew Cuddy wanted to believe that, and maybe she was right, although House doubted it. He wasn't sure if his penchant for focusing on the worst outcome was helpful in this situation or not. He only knew it would reduce the chances that they would be blindsided by something.

"Let's go to our room," House requested. Ordinarily, he would have said that with either a seductive or a leering voice, and maybe with a waggle of his eyebrows. He knew neither of them was in the mood for that. He took her by the hand and they went past the kitchen and down the hall.

Once they got into the room, they got ready for bed and undressed. They sat on the bed and faced each other. House really looked at Cuddy for the first time since everything had happened. She looked so tired, and, what was the word they used to use? Careworn. She appeared to have aged about a year in the last five days. House could only imagine how badly he looked.

He reached up and put his hand on her cheek. It was a gesture she made often with him, but he rarely did with her. She leaned into his hand and sighed in what only could be described as a painful way.

He leaned in to kiss her. It began slowly and softly and deepened. Rather than their tongues fighting with one another, they seemed to caress instead, one slowly circling the other. They stopped and rested their foreheads together.

"Make love to me," Cuddy whispered, the need evident in her voice.

Between the kissing and House's own need, he was already erect. They slid up the bed.

They began to caress each other, starting with their faces and traveling down their necks to their shoulders and arms. They stroked each other's backs, moving down to each other's behinds. Usually, House would have given her a lusty squeeze, and Cuddy would have given him a playful tap. Instead, they both gave each other slow, soft caresses. House's hand slipped forward, finding her center, gently rubbing her clit. At the same time, Cuddy's hand began to stroke House's cock.

"I need you inside of me," Cuddy whispered urgently as she pushed House on to his back. She climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and easing him into her. She leaned down to kiss him. House's hands were resting, palms up, and either side of his head. Cuddy covered his hands with her own. House began thrusting upward, and she began coming down on him. With each joining, their hands pressed together. They brought themselves along slowly, the thrusts becoming deeper, prolonging the contact as long as possible. Finally they went over the edge together, their hands squeezed together, rocking along with their bodies. Cuddy collapsed against House's chest and they laced their fingers together.

Cuddy rested her chin against House's chest and looked into his eyes. "I love you," she declared. "I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you."

"You wouldn't have gone through this if not for me," House replied, looking away. He unlaced his fingers from Cuddy's and tried to push her off of him.

Of course, Cuddy wouldn't budge, "What the hell are you talking about?" she asked as she grabbed his chin and turned his face back towards her so she could look into his eyes.

"Didn't you wonder why he waited four years after you adopted Rachael to kidnap her?" House replied. He was looking down at his chest, avoiding eye contact as best he could.

"Yes," Cuddy replied. "But what does that have to do with you?"

"The cop on the case told me that Fielding came home at Christmas," House explained. "Apparently, he needed a copy of his birth certificate for a job or something. When he went to get it, he checked the adoption records and found out I had adopted Rachael. Apparently, that's what set him off and made him decide to take her."

"House, look at me," Cuddy insisted. When he complied she said, "You are no more responsible for this than Rachael is! He was sociopath who manipulated all of us."

"Maybe . . . " House responded.

Cuddy could tell House wasn't convinced. She didn't want to be harsh with him, but she felt she had no choice. "Do you love Rachael?"

"What?" House asked in a surprised voice. "Yes. You know I do."

"Do you regret adopting her?" Cuddy demanded.

"No," House answered. "Of course not."

"Even if you knew ahead of time it would bother Fielding enough to make him do what he did," Cuddy questioned "Would you have turned her down and refused to adopt her?"

"No," House said in his quietest voice. "She wanted it so much . . . "

Cuddy looked at him, as if waiting for him to complete the thought.

"And so did I . . . " He admitted.

Cuddy fell silent. When House gathered his courage and looked at her again, she was smiling. It was a little sad, but it was a smile.

They hugged each other tightly.

"I have to get up now," House stated. "My shift."

"Can't you stay here?" Cuddy asked. "We have the monitor."

"Kind of defeats the purpose," House reminded her, "if we both wake up."

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed. They hugged and kissed each other one more time.

House pulled on some sleep pants and a t-shirt and left the room.

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A/N: An abrupt end to this chapter, but I wanted to get something published. Hope it was worth the wait.


	91. Chapter 91

A/N: A short Wiles chapter. Please feel free to skip if it's not your thing.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

Wilson, Andie and Catia spent their evening next door. Catia had always been an affectionate child, but she was even more so at dinner. She sat in Wilson's lap, with one arm around him, using her other hand to eat. Considering the arrangement, she spilled a minimal amount of food on his pants.

Andie was six months pregnant with twins and getting pretty big. Wilson thought he should help her put the food away and put the dishes in the dishwasher, but she refused. She knew Catia was being a little too clingy, but, under the circumstances, she thought she could let it go for now. So, she let Catia sit in Wilson's lap while she cleaned up. She had also noticed that Wilson was in pain and thought he probably shouldn't be doing too much moving around.

The plane rides, the hotel bed, and driving in a rental car with seats that didn't support his back weren't good for Wilson's damaged spine. He had been too focused on helping House, Cuddy and Rachael during the trip itself to really feel it, but now that he was home, and the distractions were gone, it had really flared up.

Andie wanted to give Wilson a massage, but she knew they hadn't been together in several days, and she didn't know where it would lead, so she had to wait for Catia to be asleep. Catia was reluctant to go to bed, until Andie reminded her that she needed her rest to be able to help her friend next door. It helped that Wilson sat with her until she fell asleep.

Andie and Wilson headed toward their bedroom. They got undressed and Andie was reaching to massage his back.

"I want to talk about something first," Wilson said as he stopped her.

"Okay," Andie said softly.

"After everything that's happened . . . " Wilson hesitated, not really wanting to bring it up again, " . . . next door, um, I think we need, that is, I want . . . " Wilson didn't know why this was becoming so difficult to say. Wilson never seemed to have trouble expressing himself when it came to his emotions, but now, for some reason, he was having trouble getting the words out. Maybe it had something to do with the lump in his throat. Was he afraid that Andie would say "no"? He would be devastated if she did. It had become so important to him. Well, nothing to do now but plow ahead and hope for the best.

"What is it, baby?" Andie asked softly. Wilson's distress was obvious to her. The reason for it wasn't.

"I want," he continued as the lump grew, making it almost impossible for him to speak, "To adopt Catia," he croaked. He was waiting for her response, blinking to hold back his tears.

"Are you sure? This isn't just some reaction to what happened to Rachael, is it?" Andie asked. Her tone wasn't hostile, just firm. "If you do this, you can't take it back. It's forever. Even if something happened to us, or something happened to me, you'd be responsible for her until she's an adult. You're already going to have a boy and a girl you're responsible for. Are you sure you want to take on another child?"

"I want to do this," Wilson's voice was strained, "I want to be her father. I want forever . . . "

Wilson could no longer keep his emotions in check. The tears that had been pooling in his eyes began sliding down his cheeks. He made a half-hearted effort to wipe them away, but they were falling too quickly.

"Oh, baby," Andie said softly as she pulled Wilson towards her. He couldn't see it through his tears, but she was crying, too. "I love you so, so, so, so, so much," she declared. Each "so" was punctuated with a kiss somewhere on Wilson's face.

Wilson touched his forehead to Andie's as he stroked her cheeks. "I take it that's a 'yes,' then?" he asked in a congested voice.

Andie nodded. "Obviously, we have to ask Catia. However, judging from the way she was hanging on to you for dear life this evening, I don't think we have to guess what she'll say."

They embraced each other again and began rocking back and forth.

After they both settled down a bit, Andie asked, "May I rub your back now?"

Wilson nodded and Andie helped him get in position on the bed.

"My back really needs this," Wilson informed her. "Just don't be surprised if there is a reaction elsewhere."

"I'm counting on it," Andie responded with a smile.

Wilson felt his pain lessen under her skillful hands. Even though most of his pain was in his lower back, his neck and shoulders had always given him problems, so he was pleasantly surprised when she expertly massaged that part of him as well, working out all the knots of tension he had acquired over the past few days.

Between the release from pain and the fact that it was the woman he loved who gave him the release, he found himself at attention. Andie noticed as well and gave him a sly smile.

Given her size and his back, about the only way they could do things at this point was while he spooned her. He slipped in and out while he stimulated her with his fingers. She came first, with him following shortly afterward.

"God, I missed you so much," Wilson admitted as he and Andie cuddled.

"We missed you, too." Andie responded.

"Why did Catia want to be so close to me tonight?" Wilson questioned. "I mean, I loved it, but why?"

Andie smiled. "I don't know for sure, but I suspect she's afraid because of what happened to Rachael."

"I hope this doesn't sound like a silly question, " Wilson said, "But do we need to worry about that?"

"Well," Andie responded, "I don't think her birth mother could ever afford to come to the U.S. She could try to get here illegally, but she would have to get all the way through Mexico first. Plus, she would have to leave her other children behind. And she gave Catia up, more or less voluntarily."

"More or less?" Wilson asked.

"Well," Andie replied, "To the extent that poverty allows anyone to make a choice."

Wilson smiled slightly at his left-wing university-professor wife. "What about her father?"

"According to the court documents from Guatemala that accompanied her adoption paperwork," Andie stated, "The man that her birth mother identified as her father denied paternity completely."

"Wow," Wilson exclaimed. "She's so pretty now, I bet she was a beautiful baby."

"From six months on, when I got her, she was edible," Andie stated with a smile, remembering every delicious sensation her daughter's presence gave her. "And in her pictures before that she was exquisite."

"Even if he wasn't biologically related, how could any man walk away from that?" Wilson pondered.

Andie smiled at Wilson's obvious affection for her child, and, maybe, to some extent, all children. After all, this was a man who cared so much about little bald kids trying not to die from cancer. "I guess we're lucky that he did."

"Yeah," Wilson agreed, "But still . . . "

"Let's just be happy that we don't have some insane birth father trying to take her away from us," Andie stated soberly.

"I know," Wilson admitted.

They continued to cuddle as they fell asleep.

Wilson went back to work the next day, even though he hated to leave Andie and Catia. After a good night's sleep in his own bed plus two massages from Andie, his back was better. It helped that the weather was warm. He also began to work on the adoption paperwork.

Because Andie wanted to have as long a maternity leave as possible, she had cut her sabbatical short. She was teaching on-line courses, which meant she only had to go to the University for faculty meetings, but she had a lot of things to do at home.

Catia wanted to be with Rachael, so Andie asked and when she was assured Rachael was okay with it, she brought Catia next door.

Things had settled into a routine at the Wilson-Miles household. The same could not be said of the House-Cuddy household.


	92. Chapter 92

A/N: Sorry this took so long to update. I have struggled with this chapter, and I'm still not thrilled with the way it came out, but I decided to wind it up and move on. Maybe my muse will be more cooperative with the next chapters if I do. Thanks for your patience.

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**Disclaimer: Don't Own**

_Things had settled into a routine at the Wilson-Miles household. The same could not be said of the House-Cuddy household._

The next two days passed with growing tension. Rachael had nightmares increasing in both frequency and intensity as time passed. She refused to talk about the nightmares when she woke up, alternately claiming she didn't remember, or that it was something to do with the kidnapping, but she refused to give details.

Cuddy and House suspected it was related to Rachael knowing that she would have to return to school the following week, where the kidnapping had taken place. They were considering keeping her home for a while, if that would help her.

Friday finally came. Daniela arrived that morning to watch Michael. It was about an hour's drive to the therapist's office in Pleasantville.

Cuddy drove, both to keep House's leg from causing him any trouble, and also to help her deal with her own nervous energy. Rachael sat quietly in the back seat. Neither House nor Cuddy could figure out what she was thinking or feeling, which just added to the uncertainty.

The office was in a medical park several miles off the interstate. They arrived a little early for the appointment and parked the car. House got out to walk around so his leg wouldn't cramp after the drive.

They went into the office and gave the paperwork they had filled out beforehand to the receptionist. She thanked them and asked them to take a seat. Thankfully, they didn't have to wait long.

A woman in early middle-age emerged from the door behind the reception desk, "Hi, I'm Tiffany," she said. House wondered what would happen when those little girls with those sickeningly cutie names hit their seventies, but he decided this wasn't the time or the place to mention it.

"Rachael, would you come with me?" Jewelry Store Girl (as House had immediately dubbed her in his mind) asked. "I'm going to ask you to draw some pictures, okay?"

Rachael looked frightened. She had been with either Cuddy or House since they arrived at the hospital in Charlotte.

"It's okay, sweetie," Cuddy reassured her. Cuddy knew that drawing was a technique often used to help children articulate what they couldn't say. Rachael reluctantly allowed herself to be led away.

Within five minutes, Cuddy and House were shown to Doctor Gati's office.

Doctor Elaine Gati was a psychologist who specialized in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She had been in practice for almost twenty years, starting in Northern California. She had moved her practice to New Jersey about thirteen years ago.

After introductions, House and Cuddy sat down.

"Thank you for providing all the information, including the police report," Gati stated. "Before we bring Rachael in, I'd like to start by telling you a little about my process. Rachael is obviously the one who has been directly affected by the events of the past few days, so I will be working with her on her own at various times, when I deem it will be helpful. However, I believe that traumas like the one Rachael has been through affect not just the person involved, but also the people closest to that person.

"This is especially true in parent-child relationships, when the child has experienced the trauma. In addition to the parent's concern about the child, many times the parents carry an added burden of guilt or feelings of inadequacy because they believe they failed to protect the child. These emotions appear even in those cases when it is objectively not true, and the parents know on an intellectual level that there was nothing they could have done. So, I believe that in most cases, and in this case in particular, family therapy will be the most helpful."

Gati paused, allowing House and Cuddy to digest what she had said. "In addition, because we are talking about a minor, as her parents, you will both have complete access to the content of whatever discussions I have with her, and, of course, approval of whatever therapies I recommend. The only time I will keep you out of the loop is if I suspect abuse, which, in this case, I'm not anticipating.

"Do you have any questions about what I just said or any questions in general?"

"Why does a doctor that specializes in treating victims of violence work in a posh suburb where people don't even need to lock their doors?" House asked.

"House!" Cuddy exclaimed. She had no idea what that question had to do with helping Rachael. She knew it could get the therapist upset, which she really didn't think was useful.

"That's a legitimate question," Gati acknowledged. "Let me just answer it by saying I moved here in the fall of 2001."

"Why didn't you move to Manhattan?" House asked.

"If there had been more than just a few survivors, I most likely would have," Gati stated. "But, I was dealing with victims' families, and they lived around here. And in Connecticut."

House was satisfied with her answer.

"Any other questions?" Gati asked.

"Do we have any idea how long the treatment could take or the possible outcome?" Cuddy asked. She had looked at research on PTSD and seen it was treatable, but she wanted the therapist's opinion on their particular situation.

"Well, I'll know more after today, but from what I've already seen in the information you have provided, I think a positive outcome is quite likely."

How do you define 'a positive outcome'?" House questioned. "Is that nightmares once a week instead of twice a night, like she's having now?"

"No, we usually get better results than that," Gati stated. "However, there are a few complications in this case. She was exposed to both intense and deliberate violence."

"Is that better or worse?" Cuddy asked.

"It depends entirely on the individual," Gat answered. "Some people have more difficulty processing violence directed at them specifically, while others have more difficulty with random events like mass killings or natural disasters."

"When do we get started?" House asked, not bothering to mask him impatience.

Gati looked at her watch. "Tiffany should be finishing up with Rachael right about now. She's going to bring her in right after that."

As if on cue, there was a knock at the side door. "Are you ready for Rachael?" Tiffany requested as she opened the door.

"Yes," Gati replied. "Did Rachael draw me some pictures?"

"Several very good ones," Tiffany stated. She handed a file to Gati.

"Thank you," Gati said, giving Tiffany her cue to leave.

While the file hand-off was taking place, Rachael had entered the room. House and Cuddy had been sitting together on a loveseat in a grouping of chairs, with Gati occupying the chair opposite them. There was one other chair in the grouping. Rachael bypassed that and went to sit in the middle of the loveseat, which meant she sat half on Cuddy's lap and half on House's lap. Luckily, the way House and Cuddy were seated, it was House's good leg. Rachael leaned back so she was resting against both House's and Cuddy's shoulders. House put his arms across Rachael's back and around her waist, while Cuddy put her arm in front of Rachael's waist around to her side.

Gati noted the arrangement but did not comment on it. The body language spoke volumes about the relationship between these people. House and Cuddy's legs were touching from the hip all the way down to the floor, even before Rachael came in. Rachael was seeking out contact with both of her parents, and they embraced her when she did. _This is definitely a strong family_, Gati thought. _Good thing, because they're going to need all the strength they can muster._

"Rachael," Gati began. "There are some very interesting drawings here. I would like you to explain what is happening in them as I hold them up."

"Do I have to?" Rachael asked.

"It would be very helpful if you did," Gati encouraged.

"Okay," Rachael agreed reluctantly.

"In this picture, I see a tall, thin man with a cane standing next to you," Gati stated as she turned the picture toward the three of them. "Is that you with your father?"

"No," Rachael corrected her. "That's Arthur. He's the one that I went with . . . " Rachael looked down guiltily.

"Why did you go with him, Rachael?" Gati asked softly.

"Because he told me mommy had planned a surprise anniversary party for daddy," Rachael replied in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. "He said he was dressed like my daddy and had the cane so he could play him in a skit. He told me I was supposed to go with him to the party." Rachael paused, looking down in embarrassment at her hands. "I'm sorry I did it. I'm sorry I was so stupid to trust him."

"Oh, sweetie," Cuddy sighed as she tightened her embrace. It gave Cuddy so much pain to think of someone exploiting her daughter's openness and innocence. Cuddy had felt the identical shame after the rape. At least she had made it to fifteen instead of seven before her trust in other people was destroyed.

"What did I already tell you?" House asked her. "You are NOT stupid! Some evil, selfish adults tricked you. This was NOT your fault."

"Then why does it feel like it is?" Rachael asked

"No" Gati corrected her gently. "It doesn't feel like it is. It feels like it should be. This is going to sound very strange, but feeling like we are responsible even when we are not can be comforting. It gives us a sense of control in a situation where we don't have control. It the end, it's not a good idea. We wind up blaming ourselves and feeling responsible for things we didn't do. Do you understand what I'm saying, Rachael?"

"Yes," Rachael replied softly. "I just wish I were a grownup and didn't think this way."

Gati looked at House and Cuddy, waiting for a response.

"Honey," Cuddy began, "Grown-ups do this to themselves all the time."

"They do what?" Rachael asked.

"They pretend they're in control of a situation when they're not," Cuddy answered. "Both your Dad and I have done that."

"Really?" Rachael questioned. "When did you do that?"

"Well," Cuddy responded, "Your father is doing it right now."

"What?" Rachael and House both asked in unison.

"Your Dad thinks he did something, or rather he failed to do something, that resulted in your being taken away," Cuddy replied.

"Daddy didn't do something that let them take me?" Rachael asked. "I don't understand." She looked at House with a quizzical expression.

"The school didn't stop Arthur from taking you because they didn't know me," House explained in a very quiet voice. "If they had known who I was, they wouldn't have let you go with him."

"How would they know you?" Rachael said. "You've only been to my school once or twice."

"That's exactly the point, kid," House admitted, looking down at the floor. "I don't show up at the school enough so that they _would_ know me. I'm not involved enough . . . "

"None of the dads are there very much," Rachael said, "What with them having jobs and all. It's mostly the moms who don't have jobs and do all the PTA stuff that are known around the school. And I don't think anyone who is a doctor has time to be hanging around and being class parent. That doesn't make any sense."

"That's the point," Gati interjected. "It doesn't make any sense to blame ourselves for things that we can't control, but we do it anyway. And you don't need to do it any more. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Rachael replied. "I think so."

"And the same applies to you, Doctor House," Gati stated.

House remained silent but nodded in acknowledgement.

"Let's look at another of your pictures," Gati stated. She had started with one she thought was pretty neutral, although it had turned out to be fairly emotionally loaded. She decided to pick a more obviously emotional picture. Gati held up a picture of a man brandishing a gun. "Who is this?"

"The man who said he was my father," Rachael stated, looking at House like she was afraid her words would wound him, "But he isn't, I mean, he wasn't. He was my birth father, I guess."

"You can call him your father if that makes it easier, kid," House stated, trying to be supportive. "You couldn't help what he forced you to do."

"I tried not to," Rachael said, looking down. "At first, I said I wouldn't call him that. That's when he hit me. But I didn't care. After he killed Arthur, I was scared. I mostly didn't call him anything, but when I had to, I did call him 'daddy.'"

"Don't worry about it, kid," House said. "I know you couldn't help it." House's arms tightened around Rachael involuntarily – the instinct of a father protecting his child.

"Rachael, you just said something interesting," Gati stated. "You said you didn't care that this man hit you, but that you became scared after he killed Arthur. Why? Were you afraid he would kill you?"

Gati assumed that was the case, but she wanted Rachael to articulate that specifically. It was important that she do that to deal effectively with her fears. Gati was surprised by her response.

"Not really," Rachael said quietly. "When he killed Arthur, he told me he would do the same thing to mommy and daddy if I didn't cooperate with him. That's why I got really scared."

Gati was puzzled. "You weren't afraid he would kill you?"

"I was," Rachael admitted, "But that didn't matter as much."

"What do you mean?" Gati questioned gently.

"If I was killed, my mommy and daddy would probably be sad, but they would get over it," Rachael stated.

"Why do you think it would not affect them that much?" Gati asked.

"Let's face it, I'm not really their kid," Rachael replied. "They would still have their real kid, Michael, so they would be okay."

House and Cuddy both sat there, completely stunned. Their looks of devastation were evident to anyone who had eyes. Gati knew they weren't capable of speaking at that moment.

"How long have you believed that Michael was 'their real kid,' and you weren't?" Gati asked.

"Well, it was kind of in the back of my mind from the time mommy was pregnant. But when daddy adopted me, I kind of pushed it back," Rachael explained. "And when daddy gave me the necklace, I really wanted to believe it was true."

House was about to insist it was true, but held his words when Gati looked at him and held up her hand. "Why don't we let Rachael finish her thoughts on this?" It was more of a command than a question.

"When he took me," Rachael continued, "He told me that mommy and daddy adopting me didn't matter; that blood was what mattered. He told me that they would always love Michael more than they loved me. He said they couldn't help it. It was biology. He was the only one who could love me that way."

"Did you believe him?" Gati asked.

"Not at first," Rachael said. "But the longer I stayed with him, the more it sounded like what he was saying could be right . . . it felt like no one was even looking me for me . . . and when he threw away the necklace, and I didn't have proof any more . . . "

"What do you think now?" Gati asked. "Do you think your parents love you?"

"Yes," Rachael said quietly. "I didn't know it, but they sent the police to help me. They came all the way to the hospital in North Carolina to get me. They take turns staying awake to be there when I have bad dreams."

"Do you think they love Michael more than they love you?" Gati asked. She knew this wasn't directly related to the trauma itself. In most instances, situations like this revealed other issues. Ironically, it was sometimes bad circumstances that allowed people to face things that they wouldn't have just living their lives. It was the only positive that usually came out these events.

"They're really good to me and they take care of me just like they do with Michael, so I know in my brain that they don't love him more," Rachael attempted to explain. "But sometimes in my heart, I'm not sure."

"Why do you suppose that is?" Gati questioned softly.

"I don't know," Rachael admitted. "Like I said, they show me all the time that they care about me . . . but, I'm not really theirs, so how can they?"

House had gone from shock and hurt to fury. He was so angry about everything Fielding had done to Rachael – the terror of the kidnapping, the horrific violence he had subjected her to, and now this vile manipulation. He looked over at Cuddy, but he could see she was pretty much drowning in her hurt. He would have to be the one who straightened Rachael out. Too bad he was so crappy with emotions.

"We can love you, baby girl," House tried to keep the anger out of his voice, "And we do. We love you as much as Michael, and, in some ways, maybe more.

"More?" Rachael asked. "What do you mean?"

"Michael is a random combination of your Mom's and my genes. He's a great combination, but we didn't get much say about it," House told her. "You were picked. First, by your Mom, who wanted you so badly she put her own life in danger to find you in a crack house. And then by me. I didn't even know I could love a kid until I fell in love with you."

"You fell in love with me?" Rachael questioned, her eyes beginning to shine. "How?"

House paused. "I don't know how it happened. It was . . . your hands, your feet, your eyes, your ears, your knees, your elbows . . . there was this spot in the middle of your back . . . when I kissed it, you giggled . . . your skin . . . the way you smelled . . . everything . . . it was just _you_ . . . . I couldn't help loving you."

Rachael could no longer hold back her tears. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have called him 'daddy.' You're my _real_ Daddy." She began crying and House pulled her tightly into his chest. A low moan escaped his lips and he began sobbing, his feelings so intense he could no longer contain them.

Cuddy was crying so hard she almost couldn't see. She put her arms around both of them.

Gati observed their interaction. Even in all her years of practice, it was rare for her to see such deep emotions. These three people obviously loved each other completely, without reservation. Thankfully, their healing had already begun.


	93. Chapter 93

A/N: Sorry this took so long to update, but the muse refused to visit for a while. At least it's a long-ish chapter.

**Disclaimer: Don't Own**

Gati decided to wind up the session after everyone had settled down. They were given an appointment for next week and an assignment. If anyone had a nightmare, they were to record the details of that nightmare and share it with the other members of the family. Cuddy seemed to accept this idea readily, but Rachael, and especially House, seemed reluctant.

Rachael didn't really like talking about the kidnapping and what happened. Since all her nightmares had been about this, she was hesitant to talk about her dreams. Gati assured her that the only way to make the bad dreams go away was to talk about them. When Rachael heard this, she agreed to the homework.

House had a different set of concerns when it came to his dreams. He was still dreaming that Rachael never came back and it broke up their family, with varying scenarios as fallout, most of them involving him self-destructing in a spectacular fashion. Sharing these dreams with Cuddy, and especially Rachael, would be upsetting enough. He would have to go into a lot of detail regarding his past adventures in drug abuse and mental illness that he was not particularly proud of. He was fairly certain Rachael would not love or respect him as much once she found out about his dysfunction, and that was a bad enough thing to face.

But that wasn't even the worst of it. After House read the police report and had the details of the violence Rachael had witnessed and experienced, he also started having dreams about this own childhood again. And, of course, they weren't happy ones. They were always violent – either John abusing him, or one of his childhood peers tormenting or attacking him.

He didn't want to re-live this crap himself, let alone share it with Cuddy and Rachael. He worried that it would just add to Rachael's trauma. He also worried that if Cuddy knew even more of his painful childhood, she might start to think he couldn't be an adequate parent. He had enough doubts about himself as it was; he didn't need to see doubt in Cuddy's eyes, too. _If only that stupid asshole had just left us alone_, House thought.

Cuddy had asked Gati if she thought Rachael should return to school on Monday. Gati believed it would be helpful for Rachael to get back into her old routine, if she could handle it. So Gati suggested trying it, but also making sure that someone Rachael trusted would be available to bring her home should anything occur. Of course, after what had happened, just the act of taking her out of school could be traumatic, too.

Cuddy the Administrator figured out how to solve that problem. She brought House and Rachael home after the appointment and went to the hospital. She took pictures of Wilson, Cameron, Chase, and Foreman. When she got home, she took pictures of House, Daniela and Andie. She had House take a picture of her as well. Cuddy downloaded all the photos and e-mailed them to the school, identifying each person and providing contact information. She instructed them that no one but the individuals in the pictures she had sent them would be allowed to pick up Rachael from school.

House, of course, now firmly of the belief that everyone at that school was a moron, thought it was a pointless exercise. Especially since Fielding and his accomplice were no longer alive to bother them. For once, he kept those thoughts to himself in an effort to reassure Cuddy, and more importantly, Rachael, that this would make her safer.

The rest of the weekend passed fairly quietly. Rachael's nightmares seemed to diminish at least slightly in frequency and intensity. She was down to one nightmare a night, and this was usually within an hour after she went to bed. Since House and Cuddy were both still up, this was at least less disruptive than the middle of the night. Of course, it took time for Rachael to calm down, describe her nightmare and for Cuddy to write the description down. At least everyone was able to attempt to get to sleep by eleven.

* * *

It was early Saturday morning. Cuddy felt herself rousing from sleep. She was lying in bed, and Rachael was lying beside her. Cuddy felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck, suddenly realizing they were not alone. She looked around but couldn't see anyone. She attempted to wake up Rachael, who seemed to have a very difficult time coming around. Cuddy wanted more than anything to run away from whatever it was, but she couldn't leave her daughter. Finally, Rachael woke up. Cuddy stood up and pulled Rachael out of the bed with great difficulty.

They headed out of the room. She heard a voice behind her and turned around. It was Jeffrey. She screamed and ran toward the bedroom door, dragging Rachael along with her.

Jeffrey easily overtook her, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her back. "How's my little whore-bitch?" Jeffrey sneered. "You're a lot older and used up now. I bet you've spread your legs for any dirt bag that wanted it. Well, you're going to spread them for me again. And your little whore-in-training is here, too. After I'm done with you, I'll bet she'll be a nice, tight little piece of ass. And you get to watch me do her."

"No!" Cuddy shrieked, "You are NOT going to touch my daughter!" She pulled her arm from his grasp, ran out of the bedroom, through the hallway and into the family room, pulling Rachael along with her. She tried to move quickly, but she kept stumbling over piles of laundry.

Jeffrey called after her in a mocking voice. "Don't expect any help from your lame husband, either. He was just too easy to get rid of."

As Cuddy made it to the foyer, she saw a broken, battered corpse. "No," she whimpered as she knelt down next to House's body. "Please, no . . . "

Suddenly, she felt Jeffrey starting to shake her. "Get away from us," she hissed through her tears.

"Cuddy!" House called to her as he tried to shake her awake. "Cuddy, you're having a nightmare, wake up!"

Her eyes opened and she saw the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen, the ones she had fallen in love with twenty-five years ago, looking at her. She threw her arms around him and hugged him with everything she had.

"Whoa," House exclaimed, taken aback by the intensity of Cuddy's embrace. "Take it easy."

Cuddy ignored him as she smothered his face in kisses and clung to him with all her strength.

Her lips found his mouth and she pulled him into a deep kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth forcefully.

House's mind knew he should stop Cuddy and have her describe her nightmare, but the kissing was only making the morning boner he had every time he slept with her even stiffer. Things became even more urgent when she started down his neck and found the spot where it joined his collarbone. Cuddy knew what the effect would be of stimulating that area with her mouth, and she took advantage of it as she greedily kissed, nipped and sucked him in one of his most tender places.

Her hands traveled down to another of his soft spots, and, in contrast to the roughness of her mouth on his neck, she softly and tenderly caressed his hip bones. House was on the verge of overload, and Cuddy knew it and exploited it. She continued to kiss and suck on his neck and use one hand to caress his hips, while the other hand found his cock and guided it toward her entrance. She rubbed his head against her folds.

"So wet," House moaned as Cuddy slid his cock inside her. He wanted to thrust but she stopped him. Every time he went to pull out, she simply used the muscles in her walls to clamp down on him. He wasn't sure if that would be enough friction, but it was an amazing sensation.

After several torturously delicious minutes of this, he was begging, "Please Cuddy," he whimpered.

Cuddy began slamming down on him and he began thrusting up. It didn't take long for either of them to climax. Cuddy could feel the vibration and heat radiating out from her center, turning her body to jelly. House's release was intense and lasted a good minute as he pumped himself inside her. Every nerve in his body felt pleasure, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Cuddy lay across House's chest as their breathing returned to normal.

"Wow," House finally said as his power of speech returned. "That must have been some dream. Are you sure it was a nightmare and not something x-rated?"

"I've had plenty of x-rated dreams, House," Cuddy responded, "Mostly about you. No, this was definitely a nightmare."

"Why this reaction, then?" House asked.

"The nightmare made me think I'd lost you," Cuddy replied. She put her arms around House and squeezed him again.

"No more death grip hugs, please," House stated, even though he did nothing to stop her. "What happened in the dream?"

"I woke up in bed with Rachael beside me. I felt threatened and wanted to get out of house, but I had a hard time waking her up," Cuddy began. "Just when I had pulled her to her feet, Jeffrey appeared. He called me a whore and told me he was going to rape me and Rachael. We tried to run away, but we kept tripping over dirty clothes. He appeared again and told me you couldn't help us. When I made to the front of the house, I saw you lying there, horribly beaten and dead. He was shaking me, I told him to get away, and then I woke up."

"Interesting," House stated.

"What?" Cuddy asked, a little frustrated. "I give you great sex and spill my guts to you about a horrible nightmare, and all you can say is 'interesting'?"

"Well," House said, "The sex was great, and it _is_ interesting. How long has it been since you dreamed about Jeffrey?"

"Years," Cuddy admitted.

'I wonder what specifically triggered it now?" House asked.

"Well, in the session yesterday," Cuddy explained, "When Rachael said she felt badly because she went with Arthur, all I could think was how awful it had been for them to exploit her trust in people and that at least I made it to fifteen before that happened to me. So, I was thinking about the rape."

"I guess we're going to find out a lot of painful stuff hidden in the back of our emotional closets," House remarked.

"You've been having nightmares, too," Cuddy observed. "What painful stuff has been revealing itself to you?"

House really didn't want to talk about it, but he figured it would be easier in front of Cuddy than in front of Rachael. "Lots of crappy things. Most of the dreams are about Rachael never coming back, our family falling apart, and my ending up destroying myself with booze and drugs. Sometimes, I'm a drunk in an alley getting beat up or knifed. Or I'm back at Mayfield, dying in one of the beds. I'm hallucinating Amber or John. They remind me of what a piece of shit I am for not keeping my family together."

Cuddy recognized this was one of House's deepest fears, namely, that he would lose his mind again and somehow lose them or push them away. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but she couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound lame to House. She put her hand against his cheek and kissed his other cheek tenderly.

Then, she focused on something else, "You were saying 'most' of the dreams were like that. What are the other ones about?"

"They're even more fun," House replied sarcastically. "They're John abusing me, or kids I knew when I was young terrorizing me."

"I didn't know you got harassed by other kids when you were young," Cuddy stated.

"On a regular basis," House admitted.

"But you're so strong," Cuddy observed, "How did they do it?"

"I was tall, skinny kid," House told her. "I didn't really get any muscle mass until I was well into adolescence."

"And you're so interesting, with your intellect, experiences traveling all over the world, and your musical talent," Cuddy declared. "Why would they do that to you?"

"Again, not qualities that are appreciated in the schoolyard," House responded. "I was the new kid, so I was always a target. Of course, my talent for mouthing off was never an asset in those situations."

"That part I get," Cuddy stated with a small smile.

"Are you saying they were right to beat me up?" House asked.

"Of course not," Cuddy quickly answered. "I'm just saying I can see why some of the bullies might come after you if you were as, um, tactful with them as you are with, say, your boss."

House smiled back at her. "I guess it was good I didn't try for a career in diplomacy, eh?"

"I agree with that," Cuddy responded. "Oh, man," she groaned.

"What?" House inquired.

"You know we have to tell Rachael about this," Cuddy stated. "I get to explain being date raped to a seven-year-old."

"It could be worse," House said. "You could be me, being forced to admit to his kid that he is a drug addict, and was a nutcase, and that his father abused him and he had no friends."

"She already knows your father wasn't exactly a nice guy," Cuddy noted, "And I don't think there is a kid in the world who isn't a bully who wouldn't empathize with another kid being bullied."

"So," House concluded, "The childhood stuff won't spook her, but she will lose total respect for me when she finds out I'm an addict and a former mental patient?"

"Addict in recovery," Cuddy corrected him. "And we'll just have to explain to her that mental illness is a disease like cancer."

"Except my hallucinations were drug-induced," House reminded her.

"But the depression that you were trying to self-medicate wasn't," Cuddy countered.

"No," House responded, "But the depression was by caused by my own idiocy, thinking I could separate myself from humanity and from pain."

"Given the things that had happened to you up to that point, it wouldn't be a surprise to anyone that you wanted to isolate yourself," Cuddy noted. "A person can take just so much hurt before they say, 'Enough.'"

"You always find some way to forgive me, don't you?" House asked in amazement.

"It more about trying to understand than forgiving you," Cuddy told him. "You're the one that needs to forgive yourself. Or, rather, accept that you are a flawed human being just like the rest of us."

"I know I'm defective," House admitted, "I just don't think I'm like everyone else."

"You're not defective!" Cuddy exclaimed. "At least that's not all you are. You're a mix of bad and good, just like every other person on the planet."

"Are you actually trying to convince me I _am_ just like everyone else?" House inquired with disbelief.

"Well, your bad and your good are at the extremes of the curve," Cuddy admitted. "But in the sense that you are a combination of light and dark, just like the rest of humanity, then you are like the rest of us."

"Really?" House's voice still conveyed skepticism.

"You still need to be respected," Cuddy insisted. "And you need to be loved as much or maybe more than any other human being."

"More?" House questioned. "Why?"

"Lots of reasons," Cuddy replied. "Because your father couldn't love you the way you deserved to be loved, because your mother couldn't or wouldn't protect you from him, because, of the three people you've loved in your life, two of them walked away from you."

"One of them came back," House reminded her. "Although it took him a while to really forgive me."

"He had no reason to forgive you because you didn't do anything wrong," Cuddy stated. "In fact, he should have been thanking you for taking a crazy-ass risk for his girlfriend, and he should have felt guilty as hell for even considering letting you do it in the first place."

"He did feel guilty," House mumbled. "Eventually . . . "

"Yeah," Cuddy said, "Well, not before he said a bunch of terrible things and walked away. Things that weren't true and you didn't deserve to have thrown in your face."

"He was out of his mind with grief," House pointed out.

"Seriously?" Cuddy questioned sarcastically. "He had only dated her for what, four months? And he'd been living with her for, what, a month? This was hardly his beloved wife of twenty years or the mother of his children. The relationship did not merit that kind of grief. And even if he was feeling deep grief, he had no right to treat you the way he did after everything you did to try to save her."

"That's over and done with," House stated, trying to close the topic for discussion.

"Then so are your emotional issues," Cuddy responded.

"Except for having to tell my daughter my bizzaro nightmares," House reminded her.

"And me having to tell her mine," Cuddy sighed.

"Let's just get through the weekend, shall we?" House asked.

* * *

After Rachael woke up, Cuddy told her about the nightmare, leaving out some of the more colorful language. Rachael remembered her mom explaining what had happened to Grandmother House that resulted in her father being born, so she had heard about rape before. She was upset to find that it had happened to her mother, too.

"Are all men mean like that?" Rachael questioned, when she made the connection between what had happened to her grandmother, her mother, and herself.

"Of course not," Cuddy replied. "Your know your father, Uncle James, Grandpa Cuddy or Uncle Robbie would never even think of doing anything like that."

"Yeah," Rachael acknowledged. "Did anything bad like that ever happen to Grandma Cuddy?"

"Not that I know of," Cuddy responded. "Not that she would necessarily tell me."

"Why wouldn't she tell you?" Rachael asked.

"She might be embarrassed or ashamed," Cuddy concluded. "Besides, we're not that close that she would share something like that with me."

"What do you mean, 'not close'?" Rachael questioned.

"We don't talk that much," Cuddy elaborated, "And when we do, we don't talk about personal things."

"Is that because she doesn't like you?" Rachael inquired.

"Maybe," Cuddy said. "I just know she doesn't approve of many things I've done in my life."

"You haven't done a lot of bad things, have you?" Rachael asked with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Not bad," Cuddy answered. "Just things she wouldn't have done. I never fulfilled her expectations for me, I guess."

"And Daddy didn't do what his father wanted, either," Rachael observed. "And his dad didn't like him. Are you and Daddy still going to like me if I do something you don't want me to?"

"Yes," Cuddy answered, smiling. "We are going to love you, no matter what. And this house, or wherever we live, is always going to be a safe place for you to be. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Rachael answered softly. "Is adopting me one of the things Grandma Cuddy didn't approve of?"

"Yes," Cuddy answered painfully. "But there is no way I would have let that stop me. I just wanted you too much."

"Too much?" Rachael questioned.

"I had wanted a baby for a long time," Cuddy explained. "I tried to have a baby and I couldn't stay pregnant. That happened twice. Then, I was going to adopt another little girl, but her birth mother changed her mind and kept her. After all that, I thought I would never have a baby, and it hurt so much . . . "

"So, when I came along," Rachael reasoned, "You took me because you thought I was all you were going to get."

"No!" Cuddy almost shouted, startling Rachael. "You came into my life, and I couldn't believe how incredibly lucky I was. It was God, or the universe, granting my prayers. I also realized that everything that happened before you was to teach me how to appreciate you. You are the one who was meant to be my child all along."

Cuddy felt the tears slipping down her cheeks. Rachael was sniffling, too. "I love you, Mommy."

"I love you, too, my baby," Cuddy said through her tears.

They held each other and cried for a long time.

* * *

That afternoon, Cuddy decided she really had to go to the supermarket if they wanted to have anything to eat for the next few days. Rachael usually went with her, but she wanted to stay home this time.

After Cuddy left, House put Michael down for his nap. He headed for the family room, hoping to catch some of the NBA finals.

Rachael was sitting in the room, looking like she was waiting for him.

"Want to watch some basketball, kid?" House asked. "It's the finals."

"Can we talk while you do that?" Rachael asked.

House was surprised that Rachael wanted to talk. He decided the game might distract him. "I'll skip it."

"If it's the finals, it might be an important game," Rachael noted. "I wouldn't want you to miss it."

"It's the NBA," House responded. "Almost every team makes the finals, and they drag on for two months. I won't miss a thing, believe me."

"Okay," Rachael said. She looked a little nervous, but she decided she had to ask. "Mommy told me about her nightmare this morning. And you've been hearing about my nightmares since we went to the doctor. Mommy says you've been having nightmares, too. I want you to tell me about them."

House had hoped he wouldn't have to get in to this with her, but he had agreed at the doctor's office that he would tell Cuddy and Rachael about his dreams, and he had told Cuddy that morning. Ordinarily, he would have tried to deflect, but he was concerned that if he didn't live up to his end of the bargain, Rachael would realize it and stop talking about her nightmares, which very likely would set back any progress they had made. As much as he dreaded it, he really didn't have a choice if he wanted to help his daughter. And he did.

"There are two kinds of dreams I'm having," House began, "Or, rather, two themes in the dreams. One is where I screw up and lose your Mom, you and your brother, and the other is reliving bad stuff from my childhood."

Of course, Rachael was more intrigued by the dreams that involved her, so she asked about those first. "How do you mess up, and what do you mean by 'losing' us?"

House had always thought he admired kids' honesty and forthrightness, but when it came to his own problems, he would have preferred an adult who was too polite to ask questions. He had to talk about it, regardless. "For many years, I took drugs. I told myself it was because my leg hurt a lot, and it did, but I also took them because they made me feel numb."

"Why would you want not to feel anything?" Rachael asked. Even with her limited understanding, she knew that while feeling numb meant there was no pain, it also meant there was no pleasure, either.

"I was avoiding pain," House informed her. "Pain in my leg, and the pain of being lonely."

"Didn't you miss feeling happy, too?" Rachael asked.

"I didn't know I was able to be happy." House admitted.

"Why not?" Rachael questioned.

"Because up until about five years ago, I didn't think anyone would or could love me," House answered with the most raw honesty he was capable of.

"But then Mommy and I showed you that we loved you very much," Rachael stated.

House was so full of emotion, he was reaching the point that he couldn't breathe. "Get over here," he growled, holding out his arms to her. Rachael climbed on his good leg and put her arms around him. House enfolded her into his long arms as well. They sat there for several minutes.

"You didn't want a family?" Rachael asked timidly, knowing that she was getting close to some of her father's deepest emotions.

"I thought I couldn't have one," House explained, "So I spent years trying to convince myself I didn't want it. Denying it just made the pain worse, and the only way I thought I could blot out that pain was with drugs. And the drugs made me crazy."

A look of fear crossed Rachael's face. House tried to reassure her. "I never hurt anyone. Except for myself. Your mom used to bring you to see me in the hospital where I stayed to try to fix the crazy. I hope this won't upset you, but that was when I really fell in love with you."

"When you were crazy?" Rachael asked, more puzzled than anything.

"When the crazy starting getting better," House clarified for her.

"So, in your nightmares," Rachael said, returning to the subject, "You're crazy again and we have all left you?"

"More like I've pushed you away," House explained, "But, yeah, I'm alone and I've lost my family."

"What sad dreams," Rachael commented. "I'm so sorry that I caused this."

"You didn't cause this," House insisted. "The idiots that decided to take you away from us did."

Rachael sat there thinking for a couple of minutes. "You said there were two kinds of nightmares. What about the other one?"

"I'm a kid in those dreams," House informed her, "And either my father is abusing me or other kids are beating me up."

"I knew your father was mean to you," Rachael said. "But I didn't know he abused you. What did her do?"

"Different stuff," House responded. He really didn't want to give her a lot details, but he knew he would have to get into a least some disturbing things. "He would hit me, or give me ice baths, or make me sleep outside at night. One time, he burned my feet with a cigarette."

"Is that where those scars on the bottom of your feet came from?" Rachael asked.

House didn't know Rachael had seen those. If nothing else, he was impressed by her powers of observation. "Yeah."

"And what about the other kids beating you up?" Rachael questioned. It was hard for her to imagine her tall, muscular father being attacked by anyone. "You're so strong, how did they do it, and why?"

"I was a skinny kid," House told her, "And since we moved so much, I was usually the new kid, so I'd get hit a lot."

The only time anyone had ever struck Rachael was during the kidnapping, when Fielding got mad at her. She couldn't imagine dealing with that on a regular basis, both at home and at school. "Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry. I know how much being hit hurts."

House's eyes started to fill up. "That was one thing I hoped you'd never know, baby girl," he whispered as he pulled her in tighter against him.

"Yeah, but I'm safe now," Rachael said softly as she tightened her grip on her father.


	94. Chapter 94

A Wiles chapter. I'd suggest that you skip it if it's not your thing, but there is some plot to it, so you might want to read it anyway. Also, I have no idea if the medicine is anywhere near correct, so no flames if I'm way off base, please.

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, etc.**

Rachael went to school on Monday. She lasted until about ten in the morning, when she had a meltdown in physical education. Andie picked her up and left her with Daniela. Since House didn't have a case, he came home at eleven-thirty. At first, Rachael literally wouldn't leave his side. Sometime in the afternoon, she progressed to being okay with just being in the same room as he was. By the evening, she was all right as long as she knew he was within earshot. She seemed to settle down when Cuddy got home, and, with a lot of reassurance, she was able to sleep in her own bed that night.

House's team caught a case late that afternoon, and he returned to work on Tuesday. Rachael stayed home with Daniela and Michael. Andie volunteered to tutor Rachael so she wouldn't get behind in school.

Cuddy and House decided they would talk to Gati about keeping Rachael out of school for the rest of the year, and possibly sending her to a different school in the fall. Cuddy said she appreciated the offer Andie made to tutor Rachael, but she was going to contact Rachael's school to see what happened in these situations. What Cuddy didn't tell Andie, who was still working, was that Cuddy was worried it would be too much for a very pregnant Andie to deal with. The last thing Cuddy wanted was to feel guilty if anything happened.

Wilson got a call on his cell early Wednesday afternoon. It was Cameron. "Catia's here in the ER," she informed him.

His fear nearly made his heart stop. "What's wrong?" he asked as he sprinted toward the stairs. His back really wasn't in any shape for him to go flying down four flights, but he couldn't stop himself.

"She's not in any danger," Cameron tried to reassure him. "She's got a broken arm, but she's all right otherwise."

Wilson had made his way to the ER, in pain and much too slowly for his liking. "Sweetie," he cried as he found her in one of the exam rooms with Cameron. He carefully put his arms around her.

"Daddy," Catia replied, her head falling against his chest. The adoption hadn't been finalized, but they were expecting it at any time.

"My arm really hurts," Catia informed him. "Aunt Allie says it's broken."

"I know," Wilson said, "She'll set it for you, and then we'll talk about what happened."

Cameron gave Catia an injection to help her with the pain. While they waited for it to take effect, Cameron called a student nurse into the room. "Heather is going to stay with you while I talk to your dad for a minute, okay?" she asked gently.

"Okay," Catia said reluctantly.

Wilson followed Cameron to one of the other rooms. She was holding a large file containing x-rays.

"Take a look at this," she commanded as she flipped the x-ray against the lightboard.

Wilson stared at it for about twenty seconds. "I'm used to looking for cancers, or, at least, tumors. Please help me out here."

"Here's the fracture," Cameron showed him. "What kind does it look like to you?"

"Radial," Wilson answered quickly, as though he were still being quizzed as an intern. He paused for a few seconds. "This didn't happen when she fell off a piece of equipment on the playground, did it?"

"No," Cameron answered. "It definitely looks like someone intentionally broke it."

"How?" Wilson questioned in irritation, allowing his real emotions to show for the first time in a long while.

"She won't tell me," Cameron admitted.

"How the hell did someone have the chance to do that, anyway?" Wilson exclaimed angrily. "Don't they have adults at that school who are supposed to supervise the kids and prevent things like this?"

"Apparently, they didn't," Cameron noted quietly.

"No kidding. Just get her arm set properly so I can take her home, okay?" Wilson asked brusquely.

Cameron was taken aback by Wilson being so curt with her. Then she thought about how upset she would be if anything like this happened to Randy or Lyla. This caused Cameron to go into House Diagnostic Mode.

Wilson's reaction let Cameron know that the adoption wasn't being done simply to make Andie or Catia feel good. Wilson was actually behaving, and therefore, Cameron surmised, actually feeling like Catia's father. _Good for him_, Cameron thought. _No, good for them_, she corrected herself.

"The meds should be starting to kick in by now. We'll set the arm and x-ray it, okay?" Cameron asked.

"Yeah," Wilson answered, sounding like a snotty teenager totally exasperated by his clueless parents.

After about an hour, Catia had her cast and she and Wilson headed home. Andie was waiting in the entryway as Wilson led Catia in. "Are you all right, sweetheart?"

"I'm okay," Catia replied. "Aunt Allie fixed my arm and they gave me some kind of shot. I'm kinda sleepy."

Andie noticed how distraught Wilson looked. "Why don't we go to your room so you can take a nap?" Catia was fading fast. She simply nodded and followed Andie down the hall.

A few minutes later, Catia was in bed, sleeping peacefully. Andie emerged from her room, looking for Wilson. She found him in the family room. He was sitting on the couch and brooding.

"Do they know what happened?" Andie asked quietly.

"Didn't the school contact you?" Wilson asked incredulously.

"They called and told me she had a 'minor accident' and that she was being brought to Princeton Plainsboro," Andie stated. "I was about to dash out of the house, such as I can 'dash' anywhere these days, when Cameron called and told me about Catia's arm. She said you were there and that you were insisting I stay home and wait for you and Catia."

"They had the nerve to call it 'minor' and an 'accident'!" Wilson fumed out loud, mostly to himself. He also took a moment to reflect upon Cameron's considerable powers of deception and deflection. She had learned a lot working for House after all.

"Do you know what really happened?" Andie asked, unable to mask the concern in her voice.

"From what we were able to determine from the x-ray of the fracture," Wilson explained, "It looks like someone broke her arm intentionally."

"God!" Andie said, her face stricken. "That must have hurt her so much."

Wilson pulled her on to the couch next to him. Since it wasn't good for their twins, he didn't want her to get distressed by what had happened, but he knew that downplaying it would be even worse for her. He tried to be helpful. "She's had her arm set, and we have meds to help her with the pain. We'll contact the school and see what we can do about whoever hurt her."

"Okay," Andie responded in a quiet voice. The thought occurred to her that none of this was easy for Wilson, either.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"I'm okay," Wilson stated. Andie looked askance at him. "All right, I'm a little upset. Actually, a lot upset. I just don't know who screwed up and let this awful thing happen to my child. I need to make sure there are some consequences for the people at the school who didn't protect her. And I need to do something about the kid who attacked her."

"I know the feeling," Andie responded.

Catia woke up from her nap just before dinner. They ate and cleaned up. Wilson and Andie brought Catia into the family room to have a discussion with her.

"Honey," Andie began, "I know this is probably tough for you to talk about, but we need to know what happened."

"I fell and broke my arm," Catia said quietly. She was looking down and trying to avoid eye contact. It was obvious to anyone she wasn't telling the truth.

"Catia," Wilson spoke gently, "You know that Aunt Allie and I are doctors, right?"

"Yes," Catia replied.

"Well," Wilson continued, "When we look at x-rays, a lot of the time we can tell how bones get broken."

"Really?" Catia asked, a little surprised. Keeping the truth from them was going to be even harder than she thought.

"Yes," Wilson went on, "And from what we saw on the x-ray, we're pretty sure that you didn't fall. Aunt Allie and I think that someone broke your arm intentionally. Can you tell us what they did to you?" Wilson hoped he was asking the question in a way that forced Catia to be honest.

"I don't want to," she said fearfully.

"We need you to tell us," Andie insisted gently, "Or we can't stop this from happening again to you or another kid."

"It's really the fault of the men who took Rachael," Catia stated.

"What?" Wilson questioned, not seeing the connection at all.

"If they hadn't taken Rachael from school," Catia reasoned, "She wouldn't have been afraid to be there and she would have protected me, like she always does."

"Protected you?" Wilson repeated, still unable to understand what she meant. "Is there someone picking on you at the school?"

Catia looked down. "She told me never to tell."

"I know you're scared, " Andie acknowledged, "But you have to tell us, honey, or we can't help you."

"Jessica Mitchell," Catia blurted out. "She's in Rachael's grade and she never liked me. She started calling me names on the playground when I started at school."

"What names?" Wilson asked, feeling his anger starting to rise.

"Wetback," Catia stated, "Stuff like that."

"Put downs because you are Hispanic?" Wilson clarified, feeling his anger increasing.

"Yeah," Catia said softly. "It was only words. And Rachael would tell her to stop, especially if Jessica said she would hurt me. Everybody knows what happened to Rachael, and that they had to take her out of school on Monday. Most of the kids think she's not coming back, at least not soon. So, on the playground today, Jessica told me that wth Rachael gone, she could do what she wanted . . . "

Andie could hear Catia's voice starting to catch. "Just take some deep breaths and tell us what happened as best you can, sweetheart."

"She called me a bunch of names," Catia told them. "And then she dragged me over to one of the poles for the basketball hoop. She wrapped my arm around the pole and she kept pulling. It hurt a lot and I was yelling. Then, I heard my arm make a snapping noise and it hurt so much worse. I screamed even louder and Mrs. Armstrong came over then."

"Who's Mrs. Armstrong?" Wilson asked, knowing that Catia's teacher's name was Jane Esposito.

"She's one of the playground assistants," Catia answered, happy to focus on something other than what happened to her arm.

"How many playground assistants are there?" Wilson continued with his questions.

"Five," Catia replied.

"Were they all there when this happened?" Wilson inquired.

"Yes," Catia answered.

"How many kids were on the playground?" Wilson asked.

"Usually, there's five classes at a time, but Mrs. White's and Mr. Miller's classes were on a field trip, so it was only three," Catia replied.

"So, how many kids is that?" Wilson questioned.

When Catia gave him a blank look, Andie came in, "I'd guess that's about sixty kids."

"So, they had five assistants to watch sixty kids, and this happens?" Wilson asked angrily. "House is right, that school _is_ run by a bunch of morons!"

"James," Andie said, "I totally get how you feel, but I think we need to focus on Catia telling her story right now. Catia, what happened after Mrs. Armstrong came over?"

"Jessica told her that I fell and hurt my arm, and I was too scared to tell her the truth," Catia admitted.

"So, that little sociopath is still walking around the school, free to terrorize other innocent kids?" Wilson asked angrily.

"I'm sorry I was afraid," Catia told them. "You must be ashamed of me because I'm so weak and helpless."

Something in what Catia said reminded Wilson of House. House was also mortified about being weak, mainly due to John's abusive child-rearing tactics, which had caused House to have some serious problems in his life. Wilson had to make sure Catia knew he didn't feel that way about her. "I am not ashamed of you! I love you and I'm angry because the school couldn't protect you."

"Honey," Andie interjected, "Can I ask you something? You said this began when you started school. You're getting to the end of first grade, which means this has been going on for almost two years. I know you didn't tell me or your father, but did you tell someone at the school?"

"No," Catia replied.

"Why not, sweetheart?" Andie questioned gently.

"Well," Catia explained, "When they teach us about bullying, they tell us we should try to fix things ourselves, if we can. And Rachael and I thought we had fixed things. She took care of me and kept me safe. But when those bad men took her and made her scared to be in school, it didn't work anymore. I . . . miss . . . Rachael . . . so . . . much . . . " Catia had started to cry, both because of the pain for herself and also the pain of her best friend.

Both Andie and Wilson reached for Catia, and they enfolded her in their arms as best they could, what with Andie's big belly and Catia's cast.

"We're going to straighten this out, Sweetie, okay?" Andie said as they attempted to calm Catia down.

Catia was kept out of school for the rest of the week, and she spent a lot of time next door with Rachael during the day.

A meeting was arranged at the school on Friday afternoon. The principal, the person responsible for supervising the playground staff, Jessica Mitchell's father, and Andie and Wilson were in attendance.

Wilson was already angry about what had happened to Rachael, and he had two days to stew about the assault on Catia. He was definitely not going to put on his charming face and play nice. Not this time.

"Thank you all for coming today," Mrs. Gitulli began. "I know this is a very emotional situation for everyone and I hope we can get through this with a minimum amount of conflict."

"I'm not promising anything," Wilson stated. He was not happy, and this person was trying to stifle him already. "My daughter was assaulted while under your supervision, and no one did anything until the person assaulting her managed to break her arm. That's just negligent, and I have the right to be upset about that. I also want to know what's being done about the child who assaulted her. She should be removed from the school on disciplinary grounds and she should receive, at a minimum, some kind of intensive counseling before she is allowed to return to school."

"My kid didn't do anything," Mitchell protested. "She shouldn't be forced to go to a shrink because your kid is a klutz who can't avoid tripping over her own feet."

"My daughter is not a klutz," Wilson maintained, barely containing his anger. "Your daughter intentionally broke her arm."

"My daughter says she fell," Mitchell countered, "So your daughter must be lying."

"She is not lying," Wilson stated.

"Well," Gitulli interjected, "I'm sure we could go back and forth on that, but I don't see how it would be productive."

"It certainly wouldn't be 'productive' for you or the school," Wilson said, "Because then you would have to admit that the students were poorly supervised. In any case, I have proof that her arm was broken intentionally."

A little color drained from the Principal's face. "What do you mean, you have proof?"

"I'm a doctor at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital," Wilson informed her. "I and several of my colleagues have examined x-rays of Catia's arm and determined that she has a radial fracture. The only way she could have received that kind of fracture was if someone pulled her arm with enough force to break it."

"Doesn't mean my kid did it," Mitchell remarked.

"Catia identified her as the one who did," Wilson said, "And we have spoken to other children who say that your daughter has been bullying Catia for a long time."

"Did she tell anyone at the school about that?" Gitulli inquired.

"Apparently," Wilson stated in his most sardonic voice, "Your anti-bullying classes teach the children to 'handle things on their own.' My daughter has a friend who is a year older defend her. When that friend wasn't in school, Jessica came after her."

"What friend?" Gitulli asked.

"I think you know which student is no longer able to attend this school because she is afraid to," Wilson responded.

"Rachael Cuddy," the Principal ventured.

"Rachael _House_," Wilson corrected her. "Her adoption was finalized last fall."

"You seem to know a lot about the family," Gitulli observed.

"It isn't just the girls who are friends," Wilson informed her. "Her parents are our best friends, and we are also next door neighbors."

"I'm not at liberty to disclose anything about what happened to her," Gitulli stated defensively.

"You don't need to," Wilson responded. "We know all about what happened. We know exactly what mistakes were made with her as well."

Gitulli was starting to get very nervous. She didn't need to have more trouble after what had happened to the Cuddy, rather, House, girl. "What do we need to do make this not be a problem?"

"First, I think you need to investigate why five adults, with only two-thirds of the students they were usually responsible for, couldn't or wouldn't intervene to help a child screaming in fear and pain before she had a bone broken," Wilson stated. "Second, as I said before, I think the girl that injured Catia needs to be removed from school until she can receive some psychiatric help."

"You are not forcing my kid to see some left-wing head-shrinker!" Mitchell exclaimed. "They're all Jews and they'll poison her mind!"

"What?" Wilson asked, feeling his anger rising. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Everyone knows this country is run by Jews behind the scenes!" Mitchell exclaimed. "They open the border to little wetbacks like your kid. Then they have cheap labor and they can make even more money."

"My daughter was legally adopted," Andie informed him. "And she is a U.S. citizen."

"Yeah," Mitchell stated, "She can have all the paperwork in the world, but it won't change the fact that she's just another damn spic."

"Wow," Wilson said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "You don't encounter pure, raw ignorance like this very often. Oh, and you'll be happy to know that your daughter is calling my daughter some of the very same ugly names you just used. She's turning into the perfect little bigot, just like her dad. You must be _so_ proud."

Mitchell smiled evilly. "Just trying to raise her right."

"You're a thug and a coward," Wilson proclaimed. "And it's a sin that poor little girl has been poisoned by the likes of you. It's nothing short of child abuse."

Gitulli had lost control of the meeting several minutes ago. She tried to re-establish it. "Mister Mitchell, I think it's obvious to most of us that there are some _issues_ with Jessica. I think it would be best for her and for the school that she be suspended and that she undergo some sort of evaluation before returning."

"Won't matter," Mitchell replied. "I lost my job. The factory closed and moved to Indonesia. Seems the shareholders can make more profits if they get cheap labor in a foreign country. We're moving South. Jessica will be out of this damn school after today."

Mitchell got up and left without looking back.

Andie didn't know how to take any of this. She knew she was relieved that Catia's tormentor would be gone. She was also relived that after Wilson's hostile interaction with Mitchell, they wouldn't have to worry about another right-wing nut coming after them.

On the other hand, she felt sorry for the little girl that was being raised by such an angry, defeated man. Maybe someday Jessica would find a teacher or a neighbor, or someone that could show her life was about something more positive than bigotry and bitterness.

"Well," Gitulli said, her relief visible, "At least we won't have to worry about Catia having difficulties with Jessica anymore."

"'Having difficulties'?" Wilson asked incredulously. "Is that a euphemism for a broken arm? Just because part of your problem walked out the door doesn't mean you don't have to deal with everything else. I want that inquiry into your staff to find out why they let my child get so badly hurt before they intervened."

"Could I ask you to wait in the outer office while I speak to my staff person here?" Gitulli asked as she indicated the supervisor.

Wilson and Andie retreated to the chairs in the waiting room. "They better come up with something other than just going through the motions," Wilson insisted.

"I know that, as far as you're concerned, our neighborhood consists of Greg and Lisa and their kids," Andie teased, "But we do have other people that live on our street. Did you know that about two houses up from the cul-de-sac, there's a neighbor of ours on the school board?"

"Obviously, I didn't," Wilson said sheepishly. He was appreciative that Andie bothered to keep them at least somewhat connected with the neighborhood. "Are you saying we can pull rank?"

"I'd rather not," Andie replied. "But if they give us some bullshit answer, I'd be more than willing to ask Bob Stryker for some help. And, he's running for re-election this year, so it wouldn't hurt for him to look like he's battling school bureaucrats on behalf of a poor, injured child. Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

"You know," Wilson stated with a smile, "For a beautiful, sexy pregnant woman, you're very good at strong-arming people."

"Did you forget I'm Italian?" Andie replied. "We haven't had a functioning central government since the Roman Empire, so we have to know how to get things done other ways. In the words of my immortal Uncle Luigi, 'Remember, no man is wider than the front end of a Cadillac.'"

"Remind me never to get you mad at me," Wilson commented with a smirk.

The door to the principal's office opened and she came out, "Well, it looks from your smile that your mood has improved considerably, Doctor Wilson."

"Not because of anything you have done, believe me," Wilson responded, losing his grin immediately

"Well, we have discussed your request and we think it may be a good idea," Gitulli informed them. "Of course, anything like this will have to be approved by the School Board."

"Not a problem," Wilson acknowledged, now knowing they had someone in their corner if needed.

"The next board meeting is in a week," the Principal told them. "Well let you know what happened after that."

"Aren't those board meetings public?" Andie asked. "I certainly get enough announcements about them."

"Yes, they are," Gitulli admitted.

"Well, then, we'll be there!" Wilson stated with over-the-top enthusiasm.

"We will probably not discuss personnel matters at the meeting itself," Gitulli countered.

"So, you will be contacting the board before the meeting, then?" Andie asked.

"Yes," the Principal acknowledged.

"Then why do we have to wait until the board meeting to find out what was decided?" Wilson asked

"I guess you don't," Gitulli confessed.

"So, we'll just call or stop by every day until you have some news for us," Wilson said, in a voice of completely exaggerated cheerfulness.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Gitulli stammered.

"Well, I do," Wilson responded, his voice losing its cheeriness and taking on a decidedly unfriendly edge. "I may even bring Doctor House or Doctor Cuddy with me so they can find out about the status of the investigation into their daughter's kidnapping from this school."

The color drained from Gitulli's face. "Of course, parents are welcome at the school anytime."

"Thanks," Wilson said, his equanimity returning. "See you Monday."

As Andie and Wilson left, they heard the Principal tell her assistant to get the superintendent and the school board president on the phone immediately.


	95. Chapter 95

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long to update, but a received a critical, well-reasoned review, and, contrary to how I imagined I would react, it threw me for a loop. I always thought my muse was stronger than that, but, apparently not. I reacted so badly that I thought about stopping the story with the previous chapter and I even actually considered taking it down entirely. I'm still thinking about winding it up shortly. We'll see how it goes.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

While Wilson and Andie had their meeting with the school principal, House, Cuddy and Rachael had their appointment with Doctor Gati.

"Well," Gati stated as she read the new information in the file, "It seems like everyone has been sharing their dreams and nightmares with each other. I know that is a very difficult thing to do, and I just wanted to acknowledge each of you for that.

"I would like to continue looking at Rachael's drawings from last week, but it has come to my attention that two incidents occurred this week, and I think it might be useful to start with those. Rachael, can you tell us what happened?"

"I couldn't stay at school," Rachael admitted. "I was too scared."

"Well, it was where you were kidnapped." Gati noted. She observed how all three of them winced when she said the word "kidnapped." She filed that away for future reference. They would have to come to terms with that, but not necessarily today. There were so many other things they had to deal with first.

Gati focused on Cuddy and House. "Rachael hasn't been back to school since then. How do you think you want to handle with this?"

"I contacted the school," Cuddy stated, "And they have tutors available to deal with kids who can't come back to school on a short-term basis. We thought we would do that for the rest of the school year, and then we would look into private schools."

"I'm not completely convinced that this is the best thing for Rachael," Gati said. "Although it certainly isn't conducive for learning if she is frightened all the time.

"How do you feel about this, Rachael?" Gati inquired.

"I'm pretty good with it," Rachael responded, "Especially since Catia most likely will be coming with me."

"This brings us to our other incident of the week," Gati noted. "Something happened to your friend Catia."

"She got hurt at school," Rachael informed Gati. Rachael was sitting in her usual spot, half on her father's lap and half on her mother's, with each of them holding her.

"How did she get hurt?" Gati inquired.

"Jessica Mitchell wrapped her arm around a pole and pulled it until it broke," Rachael said, wincing again.

"If I haven't expressed my thoughts on this before," House interjected, "That school is run by morons."

Gati smiled in spite of her intention to remain objective, "Yes, well . . . " her voice trailed off. "For our purposes, I think it might be more useful for Rachael to tell us how she feels about this."

"How am I supposed to feel?" Rachael asked rhetorically. "My best friend is injured because I'm too messed up to stay in school and protect her."

"Honey," Cuddy said, "You know we've talked about this. It's not your responsibility to protect Catia. The adults at the school are supposed to do that. You are _not_ to blame for what happened."

"I know," Rachael admitted. "But it's still awful to see her arm in a cast and know that if I wasn't scared, I would have been there to help her."

"Sometimes, things happen to the people we care about that we can't stop, even though we think we should be able to," House stated.

"What do you mean?" Rachael asked.

"About six years ago, something happened that involved Wilson," House began. "I got drunk in a bar and I couldn't drive home. I called him to come and pick me up and he was working, so his girlfriend came to get me."

"Aunt Andie?" Rachael asked, trying to figure out what House was talking about.

"No," House replied, "This was someone else. Her name was Amber. Anyway, she decided to come to the bar and take me home. I refused to let her drive me, and I got on a bus. Amber followed me, and then there was a terrible accident and we both were injured. Because I had a brain injury, I couldn't remember what had happened, and I didn't realize she had been taken to another hospital. After a while, I remembered, and Wilson and I got her and brought her to Princeton-Plainsboro. She was very sick and I couldn't figure out what was wrong with her. I tried a bunch of things to get my brain to work, and when it finally did, I realized I couldn't do anything to save her and she died. I'm not sure your Uncle has ever forgiven me. And I've had a really hard time forgiving myself."

"But," Rachael sputtered, completely confused, "You didn't ask this person to come and get you, and you didn't make her follow you on to the bus. You didn't crash the bus. And I'm sure if you could have saved her, you would have. Why can't Uncle James forgive you, and why can't you forgive yourself?"

"I can't speak for him," House responded. "But, I think I have a hard time because of what I said before. We want to help the people we love and it's hard to accept the fact that we can't always do that."

"So," Rachael asked, "I shouldn't feel bad about what happened to Catia?"

"No," House corrected her. "You shouldn't feel _responsible_ for what happened to her. Do you understand the difference?"

"I think so," Rachael replied. There was a short pause. "By the way, Daddy is right. The people that run the school are idiots."

The three adults were forced to suppress smiles.

"Be that as it may," Gati continued. "I would like to acknowledge Rachael for telling us she knows she wasn't responsible for what happened to her friend.

Gati reached for the folder and pulled something out. "Now I think it's time to look at another drawing. This is a picture of a dumpster. What is the significance of this?"

"That's the dumpster where he threw away the necklace Daddy gave me," Rachael replied.

"This is the second time you have mentioned this necklace," Gati noted. "I'm sure you and your mom and dad know what you are referring to, but I don't. Can you tell me about this and why it's important?'

"Daddy gave me the necklace the day the adoption was finalized," Rachael explained. "It was two triangles with a heart all tangled together. It's supposed to represent the birth family, the adopting family and the love they both feel for the child being adopted. The necklace Daddy gave me also had some writing on it. It had my name, the date he adopted me, and some writing on the back that said he would love me always."

"Are you sorry the necklace is gone?" Gati asked.

"Very, very sorry," Rachael said. "It meant so much to me. It was like, like actual proof I could hold in my hand and keep close to me."

"Proof of what?" Gati inquired gently.

"That Daddy loves me," Rachael said in a tremulous voice.

"God, baby girl," House barked out, "Am I that crappy a dad that you need physical proof?"

"No," Rachael said quietly. "I'm that bad a daughter. I can't play the piano as well as I should. I mess up in school and don't get help for my friends, I do stupid things like go with people I don't know . . . if I have the necklace, I know you might love me anyway . . . "

"There's so much wrong with that I don't know where to start," House said, anger overtaking him. "You don't play the piano well because you just started, you didn't get help for Catia because those morons told you to fix it yourself, you went with them because you're a trusting, open, loving kid who couldn't imagine anyone would hurt her. And there's no 'might' about me loving you. I do, and you're stuck with it."

House pulled both Cuddy and Rachael into his arms. He was glad they didn't get to see the pain etched into his face.

Gati saw it, of course. She waited for everyone to settle back down. Gati pulled out another picture. "This is the last drawing in the file," She noted. "It shows a car, and a person lying down next to the car. What is happening here, Rachael?"

"When we were leaving the hotel on the second morning," Rachael explained, "He locked me in the car and went to get his stuff. When he came out, the police appeared. I hid between the front and back seats. I heard a lot of shouting and then there was shooting. Then it was quiet. After a while, I heard something being pushed into the door. The lock popped open and then the door came open. I looked up and there was a woman in a police uniform. She held out her arms to me and I went with her. She tried to keep me from looking around, but I saw him lying on the ground. There was a lot of blood. . . . "

Cuddy and House both tightened their arms around Rachael. They were both relieved, to the extent that anything could make them feel better, that Rachael hadn't actually seen Fielding get shot and killed. Just seeing his dead body was traumatic enough.

"How are feeling about this now, Rachael?" Gati asked.

"It's still pretty scary," Rachael admitted. "I didn't like him, and when he got killed, I didn't have to stay with him any longer. So, I shouldn't feel bad about it, right?"

"It isn't about 'should,'" Gati informed her. "Your feelings are what they are. In any case, it's healthy to feel badly about another person dying, even if we didn't like them. And seeing them die as a result of violence can make it even worse."

"Okay," Rachael said softly.

"You don't sound convinced, kid," House observed. "Why not?"

"Because after what he did, I should hate him," Rachael stated. "And that should make me happy that he's dead."

"Are there any animals that you don't like, Rachael?" Gati asked.

"Yes," Rachael answered. "Big, hairy spiders are just gross."

"Do you like to kill them?" Gati inquired.

"I don't _like_ to," Rachael answered thoughtfully. "I would kill one if I had to . . . "

"Would you be happy if your mom or your dad killed one?" Gati asked.

"I wouldn't be _happy_," Rachael clarified. "I'd feel relieved it couldn't scare me anymore."

The therapist paused. She had to choose her next words carefully. She wanted to force the issue a bit. Rachael obviously had anxieties about her relationship with House and was avoiding dealing with them. And House was insecure about Rachael's feelings toward him, and was suppressing some very deep emotions.

"So, it only makes sense, then, that you wouldn't be happy about the death of your birth father," Gati stated, waiting for a reaction.

"He's not my father!" Rachael shouted. "He is, was, a terrible person! He was selfish and he never cared what was good for me! He took me away from my family, from the people I love more than anything else in the world because of what _he_ wanted! He didn't care how much it would hurt me, or how much it would hurt them. My real father would _never_ do that!"

House sat there impassively, his face a blank. Cuddy looked at him with concern.

"Greg," Gati began tentatively. "Can I ask you to talk about something?"

"What?" House questioned softly.

"According to all the paperwork that you gave me, including the interview with the social worker when you were adopting Rachael," Gati said, "There was a time when you left Rachael and Lisa."

"You left us?" Rachael asked, completely surprised. "When? Why?"

"You were about two years old," House began. "Your mom had been taking care of you as a foster mom since you were born. She wanted to adopt you, but Fielding didn't want to let her. So, she took him to court. You know from what I've told you about my nightmares that I've had problems with drugs and mental illness. We thought that if I was a part of your lives, it might prevent your mom from adopting you. So, I went away for a while. I didn't see your mom, except at work, and I didn't see you at all, unless she brought you to work with her. Even then, I had to stay away."

"That doesn't sound _too_ bad . . . " Rachael commented.

"It sucked," House disagreed. "You have no idea how painful it is to see someone you love and not be able to touch them or even talk to them. One time, you were with your mom at the hospital and you saw me. You were little and you didn't know we weren't supposed to . . . Anyway, you ran to me and hugged my legs. I had to pretend I was . . . that I didn't want you to do it. I had to tell your mom, in front of everyone, to get you away from me, when every part of me wanted to pick you up and hold you and kiss you. When she took you back to her office, you looked back at me and you looked so confused . . .so hurt. It was the most painful thing I've ever had to do. More painful than my leg. More painful than the withdrawal I had when I stopped using drugs. I waited so long to be with your mom. I already loved you. It almost killed me to pretend I didn't. And I had no idea how long the case would drag on. How long I would have to stay away. You were a little kid, and you very easily could have forgotten me . . . "

With that admission, House could no longer continue. He cleared his throat and buried his face into Rachael's shoulder. He sounded as though he were taking some very deep breaths to keep himself together. It was several minutes before he looked up again.

"Do you understand why I asked your father to talk about this, Rachael?" Gati asked.

"I'm not sure . . . " Rachael hesitated.

"Before, you seemed uncertain about your father loving you," Gati observed. "Then, you said that your birth father really didn't love you because he thought more about what he wanted than what you needed."

Rachael acknowledged what the therapist said with a hesitant nod.

"Your father has told you about his terrible pain at having to stay away from you and your mother because he and your mom thought it would help the adoption, which is what they knew was best for you," Gati said. She received Rachael's acknowledgement before she continued. "So, what does that mean to you?"

"That my dad did something that hurt him because it would help me?" Rachael questioned in a hesitant voice. "That he loves me enough to give himself pain because it was best for me. That he is the opposite of . . . of the man that took me . . . and that I know for certain that he loves me . . . "

"Anything else?" Gait asked.

"And I love him," Rachael whispered in reverence. "And I'm happy he'll never have to leave again."

House hugged Rachael even tighter than before and Cuddy hugged them both.

Gati gave them a few moments. When they separated a bit she continued. "I think we've made some excellent progress today. For homework, I'd like you all to keep working on telling each other your dreams, bad and good. And I'd like Rachael to make me some more drawings."

"If mommy or daddy asks me about them, can I tell them?" Rachael questioned.

"Yes," Gati replied. "Your mom and dad just have to make sure not to pass judgment on what they see."

Gati gave House and Cuddy a look that warned them to accept whatever Rachael drew or whatever she told them about the drawings.

"I'll see you next week," Gati said as they left her office.

Rachael insisted that Cuddy drive home and that House spend the time in the car sitting in the seat next to her. She held his hand and put her head on his shoulder for the entire trip home.


	96. Chapter 96

**Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.**

Thankfully, the rest of the spring passed without incident. Catia and Rachael stayed home with their tutors for the most part. Despite her increasing size, Andie was still able to walk reasonably well, so she would take them to a museum, an art gallery or a historical attraction once or twice a week.

House, Cuddy and Rachael continued their Friday sessions with Dr. Gati. It seemed to be helping. Rachael had avoided flashbacks and everyone's nightmares were slowly diminishing. House and Cuddy learned a lot about what had happened to Rachael during the kidnapping, and they were relieved that it was not as bad as they had feared. Fielding had physically violent with her only once, and the accomplice had not actually been killed in front of her.

Of course, she would probably never completely get over the memory of the terror she felt being separated from her parents, and they would certainly never forget the gut-wrenching fear they felt when she was taken away. Therapy and the passing of time would help the intensity of these feelings fade, but, their family would never be the way it was before the kidnapping. They would never feel completely safe or secure again.

Cuddy and Andie spent time investigating local private day schools. They found a few with good academic programs, but several had even more lax safety standards than the public school did. Of course, they didn't want the girls to feel like they were going into lockdown every time they went to school, either, but given their respective traumas, they knew they wouldn't learn very well if they didn't feel safe. They settled on two schools that had both the academic rigor they were looking for and seemed to have good programs in place to prevent both external and internal violence.

Both schools had a series of week-long summer enrichment programs, and they decided to send the girls to a program at each one to see which school they liked the best. Of course the schools were eager to recruit them, given that it would make recruitment of other well-heeled parents easier knowing that the child of a dean of medicine and a department head at a prestigious hospital and the child of another department head at the same hospital and a professor at Princeton were attending their school. It was certainly a refreshing change from the public school, where they felt like they were being treated as difficult parents for merely wanting their children to be safe.

Andie was a little anxious about any private school, since she assumed that they were attended almost exclusively by upper class white kids who very likely would look down on an adopted Hispanic kid from a poor Central American country. Thankfully, both schools had diversity programs. House scoffed at those, of course, but he was more impressed with the scholarship programs they had for poor, minority kids from Trenton.

The main concern for the girls was if Rachael liked one school and Catia liked the other. They had become even closer since the kidnapping and the attack at school, and there was no way they were going to be separated now. They decided that as long as Rachael didn't hate one school and love the other, while Catia hated the school Rachael loved and loved the school Rachael hated, they would figure it out somehow.

It was June and that meant House's birthday and Father's Day. Since it wasn't a "milestone" birthday, House convinced Cuddy not to make a big deal out of it. It was a Friday night and they had dinner with the children at Andie and Wilson's house.

House had insisted that as a condition of his actually agreeing to celebrate his birthday, there would be no gifts. He wouldn't have minded something simple like an iTunes gift card, but he knew if he opened the door, he'd provide everyone the opportunity to give him all kinds of embarrassing, useless junk. Of course, Rachael made him a card that wished him a "Happy birthday to the best father ever." House especially liked the fact that Michael had "signed" the card by making crayon marks all over it, much to Rachael's consternation.

House felt like he barely had the time to breathe and it was time to celebrate Father's Day. He didn't hold back when he discussed the topic over lunch with Wilson at the hospital cafeteria.

"God, another stupid 'celebration,' " House complained.

"Too bad it's not Christmas, or I could call you 'Grinch,' " Wilson responded.

"You can't honestly tell me you're looking forward to this, can you?" House asked.

"Why not?" Wilson replied with his own question.

"Well, you have a closet full of ugly ties that your ex-wives gave you," House commented. "I wouldn't think you'd need another atrocity from your kid."

"Catia actually has pretty good taste when it comes to clothes," Wilson remarked thoughtfully.

"With the way you dress, how would you know?" House snarked.

"A man who wears jeans, old t-shirts and button-down shirts he can't even bother to iron is in no position to judge anyone else's wardrobe," Wilson asserted.

"And yet, I still manage to look way cooler than you," House declared.

"I don't know why you have yet another hang-up about celebrating your fatherhood," Wilson wondered.

"Because it's a dumb thing to celebrate," House declared. "I adopted a kid and my wife had a baby that is biologically mine. Woo-who, let's part-teh!"

"I know I shouldn't even ask this," Wilson stated, "But this wouldn't have anything to do with not wanting to recognize your own father, would it? Or some deep-seated inadequacies or regrets because your biological father isn't part of your life?"

"God, what is it about Jews and psychoanalysis? I already have a shrink, and thank God, he's a Nee-Gro," House stated with exaggerated emphasis, attempting to deflect Wilson with his political incorrectness.

"Have you talked to Nolan about this?" Wilson asked.

"What?" House replied. "That I'm less than enthusiastic to celebrate some ginned-up holiday that was created to sell greeting cards and as an excuse for sales of junk that stores couldn't pawn off on people at the previous holiday sales in May?"

"Yeah, cuz it's so you to be out scouring the malls for late-season bargains," Wilson responded sarcastically. "Seriously, what's so awful about a holiday where your kids and your wife get the chance to tell you you're a good father?"

"I'd prefer they let me know that throughout the year, rather than feel compelled to make some grand, empty gesture every third Sunday in June," House responded. "If they actually think I'm a good father, that is."

"Ah," Wilson stated triumphantly, "Now we're getting to the real issue – your overblown feelings of inadequacy as a parent."

"Hey, Sigmund, lay off that crap, will you?" House countered disgustedly. "You're going to get a contact high from your own fumes of self-righteousness."

"I'd respond to that," Wilson said, "If I had any idea what the hell it meant. All I know is that I've waited for years to be able to celebrate this day, and I going to enjoy every minute of it."

"Do you think Andie will give you lots of sex?" House inquired salaciously.

"I'm already _very_ satisfied in that department," Wilson emphasized, "Even with my wife being seven months pregnant with twins."

"Of course, compared to your exes, anything more than once a month would seem like a lot," House commented.

House's cynicism was actually a cover for his nervousness about Father's Day. He had a small surprise planned, and he had no idea how it would be taken. It would either be a major success or a total disaster. He hoped for the former, but previous events in his life made the latter seem more likely, given the sum total of his past experiences. He'd just have to wait until Sunday and see.

The two families had planned a barbeque where the men would cook, in an effort to keep Andie off her feet as much as possible. Of course, that didn't prevent her from making three appetizers, four different kinds of salad and two kinds of dessert. Wilson helped as much as he could, and tried to get Andie to sit down, but it was a hopeless cause.

They had invited Chase and Cameron and their kids over, since they didn't have any family in the area. For perhaps the first time in his life, House had wanted to invite more people, namely Foreman and Hadley and Taub and his wife. Initially, Cuddy thought that was a good idea, until she figured out that House's motivation was to have them attend just to remind them they weren't fathers. Cuddy quickly put a stop to that.

It turned out to be a big enough group. Wilson's parents were up from Florida for the summer, and Cuddy invited her father, which meant, unfortunately, that her mother would come, too. She had at least lucked out in that Lena and her family couldn't make it because they were visiting her in-laws in Ohio. Wilson also felt lucky because Alan and his family were on a cross country road trip until the end of July. The idea of no nasty sibling encounters put both Cuddy and Wilson in a good mood.

The same could not be said of House, since he would still have to spend time with his mother-in-law. The only thing that kept him from hiding somewhere was the hope that there would be a dust-up between Andie and Judith, which seemed inevitable given Judith's lingering resentment of Andie after Rachael's adoption party, and Andie's increasing hormone-induced crankiness. Early Fourth of July fireworks would be awesome, House thought.

Wilson and Andie brought food over earlier in the day. Cameron and Chase arrived with Randy and Lyla, and then Wilson and Andie came back over with Catia and his parents after they arrived. Andie seemed to get along with her in-laws, although it was in a friendly, distant sort of way. She didn't see them for most of the year, so that probably explained why they weren't close.

"Well, this is certainly a more pleasant circumstance than the last time we saw you," Jerry remarked to House as he shook House's hand vigorously. House really didn't want to touch Wilson's father, but he suffered through it.

Wilson's parents weren't _awful_, just too damned nice for House's taste. House also suspected there was a lot going on under the surface. That was the only way to explain how truly screwed up Wilson was.

And House didn't want to be reminded of Wilson's attack last fall. He should have said something, but he was crappy at socially acceptable small talk.

When House didn't respond, Jerry continued. "At least something good came out of it."

"What?" House asked, momentarily puzzled. "Oh, you mean Wilson knocking up Andie. His testosterone is so low, I was amazed he was capable of making one kid, let alone two. I still think it might be the gardener. I've insisted on a DNA test before they pay out the baby pool at the hospital."

"House!" Wilson shouted across the family room from the kitchen, moving as quickly as he could toward them.

"It's okay, James," Jerry interjected as Wilson got closer. "I know what a kidder your friend is."

House was about to say that he wasn't joking when the doorbell rang. "House, can you get that?" Cuddy called from the kitchen.

House limped away towards the door as Wilson breathed a sigh of relief. House opened the door to see his father-in-law. "Happy Father's Day, Greg," Bill exclaimed as he crossed the doorframe.

"Same to you, Bill," House forced out, in deference to the one member of Cuddy's family he could actually tolerate.

"Greg," Judith stated with disdain as she entered the foyer. She wasn't about to wish the man her daughter should never have married, let alone have had a child with, a happy Father's Day.

"Judith," House grumbled, stepping aside to let her pass. It was going to be a long afternoon.

As they entered the family room, Wilson stepped in, hoping to avoid a confrontation.

"Bill and Judith how are you?" he asked of the latest arrivals.

"Fine, James," Judith answered. She didn't mind Wilson. At least he was polite and charming. She couldn't for the life of her understand how he could be best friends with her rude, obnoxious, uncouth son-in-law. She didn't have the time to ponder it as she was introduced to Wilson's parents.

As House stood there listening to the insufferable small talk, he wondered if he and Cuddy would make their grown children so uncomfortable. Nah, they were way too cool. So was Andie. Wilson, on the other hand . . .

"So, James, Lisa tells me you and Andie are married now," Judith stated.

"We got married on Valentine's Day," Wilson said with obvious pride and happiness.

"And Andie is due when?" Judith inquired.

Wilson could see where this was going, but he didn't really care. "August," he answered without elaboration.

"So, Andie was pregnant before you got married, then?" Judith inquired with a strong note of disapproval in her voice.

"What's your point?" House countered. "Memory serves, I knocked up your daughter before she married me. In fact, she was noticeably pregnant at the wedding. We even considered having her wear white and her being barefoot, so we could make it a hillbilly hoe down. Pretty hot, eh?"

"Bill," Judith looked at her husband, "Are you going to let him talk about our daughter that way, and make her sound like a tramp?"

"Well," Bill responded, "She was very proudly pregnant at her wedding, from what I've seen in the photos and the video. And the reason I only saw her in pictures was that she was reluctant to invite her own mother because she didn't want to deal with your hypocritical, narrow-minded concern with what everyone would think. You couldn't even be happy for your daughter, who, by the way, was glowing."

"Yep, she was," House agreed. "That's what _I_ do for her."

Judith rolled her eyes and refrained from commenting. "James, I would think you would have learned from his mistake," Judith said, moving her head to indicate House, as if there were any doubt to whom she was referring.

"Michael James is no 'mistake,'" Wilson proclaimed forcefully. "And neither are the children we're expecting. I've been married four times, Judith. And this is the only time I've been happy. I couldn't possibly care less when Andie got pregnant. What matters is I love her and Catia, and I already love our twins."

Needless to say, House was enjoying every minute of this. Wilson was mopping the floor with House's mother-in-law. And hormone-crazed Andie hadn't even made an appearance yet. Boy, this was going to be a memorable party.

"Hi. Dad!" Cuddy exclaimed as she emerged from the kitchen and smiled at Bill. "Happy Fathers' Day!"

"Thanks, sweetheart," Bill replied, embracing his daughter in an affectionate hug as she kissed him on the cheek. "Where are my grandchildren?"

"Michael is down for his nap with Lyla," Cuddy answered, "And Rachael is in the back yard with Catia, Randy, and Chase."

"Do you mind if I go see my granddaughter?" Bill inquired.

"She'll be thrilled to see you," Cuddy responded with affection.

"We'll join you," Jerry interjected as he and Joyce accompanied Bill to back yard. They had both been taken aback by Wilson's assertiveness with Judith and they decided they really didn't want to get involved.

There was an awkward pause as Cuddy turned towards her mother. "Hi, Mom."

"Lisa," Judith responded coldly. "I've barely crossed your threshold and I've already been insulted by your husband and his best friend."

"Wilson insulted you?" Cuddy asked, surprised. She didn't even need to acknowledge that something House said would anger her uptight mother. That was a given.

"She said Michael James and the twins were a 'mistake,' " Wilson clarified. "I simply set her straight."

"No," Judith corrected him, "I said that Lisa and your wife getting pregnant before they were married was a mistake."

"God, Mom," Cuddy rolled her eyes in exasperation. "We're well into the second decade of the twenty-first century. Nobody cares about that stuff anymore."

"Well, my friends certainly do," Judith responded.

"Hence, why they're not _our_ friends," House interjected. "It's totally unreasonable for Cuddy and Andie to conduct their lives in order to avoid offending the sensibilities of your older-than-dirt, tight-ass acquaintances."

"Lisa," Judith exclaimed, "Are you going to let your husband speak to me that way?"

"First of all," Cuddy replied, "No one controls what House says, even House. Second, he happens to be right. None of us is going to make major life decisions based upon whether something might embarrass _you_."

"It's not about me," Judith insisted, ignoring the fact that in large part it was. "It's about morality and propriety."

"Morality?" Cuddy questioned. "You aren't saying there is something immoral about a man and a woman loving each other and having children together, are you?"

"Not if they're married when it happens," Judith responded.

"House and I were married when Michael was born," Cuddy reminded her, "And Wilson and Andie will be married when the twins are born, so what's the big deal?"

"In that sense, I guess it isn't," Judith conceded. "Not like that little bastard child you found in the crack house and adopted when you were single."

"What?" Cuddy asked through clenched teeth, obviously seething. "After everything that beautiful little girl has suffered this spring, you have the nerve to say that to me?"

"Well," Judith stated, "Heredity can't be denied. When you bring a child with a trashy background into your home, you should expect problems."

"How dare you!" Cuddy shouted. "Get the hell out of my house this minute!"

"I can't leave without your father," Judith said. "How will he get home?"

Cuddy was so enraged, she couldn't even respond.

"At this gathering, there are five medical doctors and a PhD with a combined total of almost fifty years of higher education. I think we're capable of figuring out how to get someone a ride," Wilson snarked.

"Go!" Cuddy exclaimed furiously as she pointed to the front door.

Judith turned on her heel and left, fishing for her car keys in her purse as she did so. Cuddy waited to hear the car start, and then back up and leave before she let a breath out again. She was still shaking with anger.

"At least she's gone," Wilson remarked, nearly as upset as Cuddy about the things Judith had said about his wife, his children, his nephew, and most especially, about his niece.

"I'm kinda disappointed," House said.

"What?" Wilson and Cuddy asked in unison.

"Andie didn't even get a crack at her," House observed. "Imagine what she'd have to say and how pissed it would have made your mother."

"Well, Fourth of July and Labor Day are coming up," Wilson noted, his equanimity returning at the thought of his wife giving the evil Judith what for. "Good times."

"Let's just get through today, okay?" Cuddy asked of no one in particular as she returned to the kitchen to see what Andie and Cameron were doing.

The younger children awoke from their naps and everyone enjoyed Andie's appetizers as the meat was barbequed. The meal was delicious and filling, and they decided to wait before eating dessert.

The children insisted on the dads opening their presents.

Cuddy started with a present for her father. When Bill opened it, he really wasn't sure what it was, except that it was some kind of electronic device. Cuddy told him it was a picture display, and she turned it on, showing him it was pre-programmed with pictures of his grandchildren. Bill proclaimed it "the best present ever," and kissed Cuddy and hugged House to thank them.

House somehow refrained from flipping out completely, even when he caught a look at Chase mocking him. House gave him the you-better-not-mock-me-just-because-you're-lucky-enough-to-have-a-father-in-law-two-thousand-miles-away-in-cow-country glare, and that was sufficient to wipe the smirk off of Chase's face. Well, almost.

"This is for you," Andie said, handing what looked like a book or picture frame to Jerry.

"Oh, my," Wilson's father proclaimed as he opened the gift and looked at it.

"Can we see it?" Rachael asked, for a moment forgetting how eager she was to give House his present.

Jerry turned around the large frame. It in were two matted pictures. One showed a college-aged Wilson sitting on a couch, talking to his younger brother Danny. This picture had obviously been taken before Danny's illness had surfaced, although House, examining the picture carefully, thought he saw some distance in Danny's eyes, perhaps indicative of future problems.

The second picture had been taken recently and showed a slightly graying Wilson talking to a very weather-beaten Danny on a couch at Danny's group home. The most poignant part of the picture was Danny's now-obvious far away look.

"I remember taking the first picture," Jerry said wistfully, traveling back in his mind to a time when his family was still intact. "When was the second picture taken?"

"Last month," Wilson replied. "Andie and I went to the group home to visit him and she snapped a picture with her phone when we were talking. Or rather, I was talking and he was sort of listening. I thought Danny would either be shy around Andie or upset by her, but he was almost relaxed with her. I think he likes her."

"What's not to like?" Joyce interjected. "She's beautiful, smart and she takes good care of my son. She encouraged him to adopt her gorgeous little girl. And she converted just so she can give him two Jewish babies."

"Thanks, Joyce," Andie acknowledged, blushing slightly as one arm encircled Catia while her other hand moved along the surface of her large abdomen.

"I better go to the can in case I get sick," House cut in, trying to stop all the mutual Wilson family affection from seeping into his family room. "Can we get on with this?"

"It's my turn," Randy proclaimed as his forced his way into the adult conversation, "This is for my Daddy."

Chase scooped up Randy and the large present with his strong arms. Bill and Jerry, who were too old, and House and Wilson, who were disabled, were remembering what it was like to be young and strong, and looked on in envy for a moment.

Randy and Chase opened the present together. It was a coffee table book about Australia. "Mommy and I thought you, and me and Lyla could look at it at bedtime and you could tell us stories about your home," Randy informed him.

Chase's eyes were shining. "My _home_ is here with you, your sister and your mom. But, I would be happy to tell you about the place where I grew up."

"Another visit to the head upcoming," House warned as he made a gagging noise.

"Shut up, House," Cuddy warned.

"Daddy, this is for you," Catia almost whispered as she gave a large envelope to  
Wilson.

Wilson expectantly opened the clasp and pulled out a piece of paper. He read it carefully.

"Well," House asked with some significant irritation in his voice, "What is it? Are you now officially a member of the Mickey Mouse Club?"

"It's a letter," Wilson stated, "Informing me that my daughter, Catalina Wilson, has now fulfilled all the requirements to convert to Judaism. Her baptism will be next Saturday afternoon at our synagogue."

Jerry, Joyce and Cuddy all gasped in surprise and happiness.

"Rut-roh," House exclaimed, drawing all eyes upon him. "That's five Jews next door and three Jews here. We may exceed our quota for this neighborhood."

"Catia, why?" Wilson asked, ignoring House's politically incorrect comment completely.

"When Mommy became Jewish, she told me that when the babies are born, they'll be Jewish, too. That meant everyone in our family would be Jewish except me," Catia explained matter-of-factly. "I want to be a real part of our family . . . I want to belong . . ."

"Oh, baby," Wilson said softly. "This is a wonderful thing you are doing, and it makes me very happy, but you didn't need to. Your Mom and I love you no matter what. And your brother and sister will, too."

"Thanks, Daddy," Catia said as she climbed up on his lap and put her arms around his neck.

Wilson smiled and returned the hug, giving Catia an affectionate squeeze.

"Do I get my present now?" House whined like a seven-year-old.

"Oh, Daddy," Rachael laughed. "Here it is."

It was a square package a little larger than the average book, but it wasn't as stiff as even a paperback would be. House carefully tore the paper away. It was something in a plastic bag.

"Holy shit," House exclaimed.

"House," Cuddy chided him, "There are children here."

"Can't help it, Cuddy," House responded. "This is amazing. Where did you find it?"

"e-bay," Cuddy replied, "But it was Rachael's idea. She wanted to get you something related to the music that you and I listened to when we were dating, um, the first time."

"God, I remember going to that concert in Detroit with you when they were on tour in 1985," House waxed nostalgic. "They were phenomenal. And so were you when we drove back to my apartment afterwards. You were like my own groupie."

"House, do you mind sharing what the gift actually is?" Wilson asked in exasperation. He was somewhat curious about the gift. More importantly, he really didn't want to hear about House and Cuddy's sexcapades from twenty-five years ago. And he certainly didn't want Catia to hear any details.

"It's a concert tour t-shirt from 1985. Tears for Fears, Songs From the Big Chair," House stated, with just the tiniest amount of reverence in his voice.

"So, you like it, Daddy?" Rachael asked.

"I love it, kiddo," House answered. He put the t-shirt on the chair, got up, hugged and kissed Rachael, and then he went over to Cuddy and picked up Michael from her lap. He held him up in the air and brought him down for a kiss on the lips. He handed him back to Cuddy and gave her a kiss as well.

"That's everything," Cuddy stated to the group. "Why don't we have dessert outside?"

"Actually, there is one more thing," House announced as everyone began to get up and head to the deck. "It seems odd to me that my kids gave me a present, and not the other way around, seeing as how lucky I am that they tolerate me, let alone love me. So, this is for you, Michael."

Michael was still sitting on Cuddy's lap. House grabbed a small, wrapped cylinder from somewhere in the couch and gave it to his young son, who eagerly tore into the tissue paper. The present fell out and Cuddy snatched it, holding it up for everyone to see. This time, it was a Michael-sized t-shirt, with the Harley-Davidson logo and the phrase, "Daddy's Little Rider."

Cuddy rolled her eyes, but there was no actual annoyance in it.

Then House held out a box to Rachael. "This is for you."

Rachael came over and leaned against House as she took the present from him. She opened it carefully and looked at it for what seemed like an eternity.

"What is it, sweetie?" Cuddy asked, unable to wait any longer.

"It's . . . my necklace," Rachael uttered breathlessly, turning around the box for everyone to see. "I thought this was gone . . . forever . . . Daddy, how . . . ?"

"Someone found it in the dumpster that Fielding threw it in . . . they brought it in to a pawn shop. I contacted the shop and let them know I wanted to buy it . . . "

"You couldn't have known which pawn shop it would end up in," Wilson observed, "So, how . . . ?"

"There's this amazing invention called the Internet," House replied sarcastically. "Seems you can use it to search for pawn shops in any given area and get their e-mail addresses or phone numbers and contact them. Once you do that, you offer them a reward which is larger than whatever they can get for the item you want, and, if it appears in their shop, they are more than happy to deal with you."

"How many pawn shops did you contact?" Cameron asked, completely surprised that her former boss would do anything this, well, caring.

"I don't remember," House replied honestly. "Over a hundred, I think."

"Wow," Jerry exclaimed, with awe in his voice. "If that isn't a testament to how much you love your daughter, I don't know what is."

"Nah," House responded, deflecting as usual. "Doing this gave me a chance to hide in an exam room and blow off a lot of clinic duty."

"I wondered why you were so compliant when I asked you to go to the clinic in the last couple of months," Cuddy said. "I should have known you were up to something."

Cuddy was as much in awe of what House did as Wilson's father was, but she knew it would make House uncomfortable for her to show her appreciation in front of everyone. She'd have to wait until tonight, when their guests had left and the kids were in bed to really let him know how much she loved him for doing this.

"Dessert time," House proclaimed, practically shooing everyone toward the deck in the back of the house. He let everyone go but he caught Rachael before she left.

"Rachael," House said as he pulled her aside. She knew he was being very serious since he rarely used her name. "I need to ask you something important. Are you okay with accepting this gift?"

"What?" Rachael questioned. "Why are you asking me that?"

"I thought that you might not want this," House explained. "I thought it might make you remember when and how it was taken away from you. The last thing I want is to upset you."

"It does make me remember when he hit me, pulled this off my neck, and threw it away," Rachael admitted. "But it also makes me remember when you gave it to me, how much it meant to me, how _loved_ I felt . . . and you loving me counts way more than him hurting me, so I really want to keep it. Will you help me put it on?"

House took the necklace from her as she turned around, put it around her neck and clasped it in the back. She turned back to him. "Thanks for everything you did to get it back. That makes me love it even more," she told him. "You are the _best _daddy in the _whole world_."

Rachael reached up and put her arms around House, pulling him down to her in a tight embrace. "I love you _so_ much, Daddy."

"I love you, too, Baby Girl," House responded, returning her hug and holding her tightly. They stayed like that for a good five minutes, simply feeling the love they had for each other. He kissed the top of her head and both her cheeks. "Let's get out there before all the dessert is gone."

Rachael released him. "Duh, like Aunt Andie wouldn't make a ton extra."

"True," House acknowledged as they held hands and walked toward the back of the room. House silently allowed himself just a fleeting moment of self-satisfaction. He was in fact capable of _not_ screwing everything up. _Happy Father's Day_, he thought to himself.


End file.
